


catching my breath, catching my death

by blueangeldust



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Librarian Louis Tomlinson, M/M, Mention of Death, Mention of slight homophobia, Mild Suicidal Thoughts, Panic Attacks, Past Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, University Student Harry Styles, american uni AU, mentions of grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueangeldust/pseuds/blueangeldust
Summary: Louis is a lonely librarian still hurting from the wounds of his past, and Harry is a university student who just wants to be loved. As they collide and unravel, they also heal and learn to live.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 82





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have read a lot of Larry fics since the start of the pandemic, I've fallen in love with them, and now here I am! Tell me what you think. This fic is personal to me, inspired to a degree by past experiences, and it has been just so cathartic and therapeutic to write this. It's been so much fun writing again and having something to look forward to. I hope you like it, too. It's not beta-ed or anything, and I'm suuch a lazy editor haha, sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Please don't post this work anywhere else. Thank you so much.
> 
> Title is from Taylor Swift's song, evermore.

Grief is a curious thing. It starts like a pinprick, a needle stabbed to your spine, constant pain. For a time, it’s all you think about. How suddenly there’s a hole in your life where a person used to be, a missing presence that not that long ago was filled with this… _human_. This human who had dreams and thoughts and kisses and sadness, too. One minute, there. The next, nothing at all.

Louis Tomlinson learned a lot of things in his 25 years of life. That grief changes form, from a constant pain to a constant, dull ache, always at the back of your mind, muddling everything you see in the world, coloring them black and white. It doesn’t get easier, but it gets easier to bear. Heavy, suffocating, omnipresent. Seeping into your dreams, monsters flexing their claws, out for the kill. You get to breathe once you open your eyes. But it never fails from taking your breath away. At least, the attacks only come from time to time.

Grief changes you, and everything you feel, too. And most of the time, you just accept it. Just like everything else, there’s nothing left to be done.

It is what it is. And all that.

That’s all he thinks about really, staring at his reflection in the Plexiglas, watching as the 20 something students go along their day inside the dank library of forgotten books and even more forgotten dust motes, evidence of human abandon and necrosis that he can’t be bothered to clean up. This used to be everything he wanted. This life surrounded by the greatest books the city budget has to offer, rows and columns and stacks of novels and poems and nonfiction that he used to pore over, that he used to sustain his life with. Suddenly, they don’t seem like the greatest stories ever told anymore.

“Excuse me!”

Louis knew this girl. Caramel Highlight Screecher. That’s what he calls her in his brain. Always borrowing the biochemistry books, always returning them a month late. He would be talking in screeches too if he had to open her emails and drown in her library fees. Not that anything is an excuse from being a fucking decent human being.

“Yes, Ms. Jones?” See how great he is at this job? He doesn’t even have to look at her library card to know her name. Of course, reporting her library number for violations once a month helps too.

“I think you’re missing a couple of books for genomics?” she said, glaring like she had laser vision, killer precision. “I really need it for my thesis.”

“Do you have the titles at least?” Louis asks dully.

Caramel makes an annoyed little huff, which Louis desperately tries not to roll his eyes at. He can’t deal with any more bitch fights right now. His mood won’t let him win. He purses his lips as Caramel hands her a little sticky note of book titles, and he searches for it in the library database.

“Sorry. Looks like they were borrowed by one of your classmates. A Mr. Malik.”

“Fucking hell!” she screeches. She grabs her sticky note and leaves with a mad hatter flourish. Back to Wonderland you go, you crazy, Louis thinks with a roll of his eyes.

He looks back down to his record book and resigns himself to typing up every book borrowed in the last year. Computerizing records is no easy feat. Fuck the system. He chews on his pen as he types laboriously, looking between paper and screen.

Someone clears his throat in front of the Plexiglas again and Louis looks up, mildly annoyed. The crease on his forehead clears up as he looks at the person in front of him.

Well, if this adorable creature even is a person. Louis knows him well, too. Harry Styles. No nicknames or pseudonyms necessary. This guy’s a little different, though. Louis knows he’s studying for a degree related to physics. But he comes to the library… for fun. There aren’t a lot of that. Louis knows because he borrows his fair share of Stephen Hawking hard bounds and quantum physics and groundbreaking master’s dissertations. Yet, he borrows a lot of poetry too, like Poe or Plath, the occasional Neruda. He once borrowed a whole stack of Shakespeare, and Louis bets he read it for fun. Louis wonders if he reads it aloud in his probably shoe box of a dorm room. Does he have a good, personalized interpretation of Puck?

Harry smiles a huge, goofy grin, crinkles appearing by his gentle, emerald eyes, huge dimples cratering his cheeks. His brown curls look like little chocolate swirls, wavy atop his head and short at the sides. And _no, Louis, you do not refer to him by mere first names in your head_. He’s not the only thing you look forward to once a week, nope.

“Hello, I would please like to return these,” _Harry Styles_ says, slowly sliding a stack of thick books along the cherry wood desk. He could use some tips from Caramel. God, can he be less pleasant of a person?

“Um… sure,” Louis does not squeak out. He clears his throat and says in a lower register, “How’s the semester treating you so far?” He can make small talk like that, right?

Harry sighs almost dreamily. “Well…” he drawls out. Even his voice sounds nice, smooth and deep and flowing like a non-provoking river on Zen gardens. “Actually, got a little bit of a snag in some lab classes. You know how hard it gets. But yeah! Getting there, getting there.”

Oh. It’s the middle of the last semester before school goes out. “Are you graduating this year, then?” Louis takes the books from the desks, scanning their bar codes before placing them on his To Return stack, trying to make his voice as nonchalant as possible. His stomach clenches dramatically. _Get a grip_.

“Uhm, I am actually! A year early, can you believe it? It was hard, I tell you,” Harry says with a grin. He leans his elbows against the inch of wood beyond the glass and clears his throat loud enough that students at the desk behind him look up in irritation. He doesn’t seem to notice them at all. His eyes are bright, almost sharp, looking right at Louis’s eyes. He fidgets, seemingly toeing at the carpeted floor. “I was actually… you know. About to ask you something. Uhm, something unrelated to lab classes and whatnot.”

Louis raises one eyebrow, placing his chewed-up pen down. “Oh? There aren’t any new arrivals this week, sorry. You still hold the record for most poetry books borrowed, I assure you.”

Louis purses his lips in amusement, as a blush creeps up Harry’s cheeks and ears and he tries to chuckle offhandedly. “That’s not it! I actually wanted to ask. Since you know, midterms just finished and my weekend’s looking pretty great…”

“Yeah?” What is up with this boy’s ramblings, truly?

“Wouldyouliketogooutwithme?” Harry spits out in rapid-fire velocity, as though if he doesn’t get it all out, he never would.

Louis blinks. Once. Twice. Did he hear that right? Was he hallucinating?

Harry seems to take his silence the wrong way. He rubs his nose with his index finger and fixes the curls by his ears. He looked so red Louis feared he might just spontaneously combust. “You… you don’t have to! If you don’t want to. I just think, you know, it might be fun. You know, a movie and some food. You know, maybe some Skittles on butter popcorn, although too much sodium does make me gaseous. Or, is the right term, noxious? Because, you know, I really don’t think you would want to be anywhere close to that. Actually, I saw this advertisement on the evil social medias…”

“Harry,” Louis interrupts his word vomit before it could go anywhere else.

“Yes?” Harry asks nervously. “It was about activated charcoal underwear that neutralizes farts, would you believe it?!”

Harry seems fairly enthusiastic about that. Louis suppresses a giggle. “I _can,_ actually. But I just want to say, sure? I guess? On the going out part?” _Yes, absolutely, I will marry you_.

Harry’s smile brightens infinitesimally. “Really? Wow, okay. Oh my god.” He gets even redder.

“Shush!” A student hunched over her notes shushes Harry, her face so offended it was like cows took a shit in front of her. Gosh, the toll heavy academic loads take on people.

Louis shrugs, his eyes playfully teasing. He scribbles his number on a memo pad and slides it to Harry. “Text me,” he whispers with a small smile.

“Will do!” Harry whispers back theatrically and with a wink, turns around and leaves the counter. He waves back one last time before closing the door completely.

If Louis wasn’t fucked before, he was now.

The rest of his day passes by uneventfully. It was so dull, typing one book entry after the other, that he was almost convinced the moment with Harry was a fever dream. It was too easy to get sucked into his dark thoughts again. One word after the other, appearing, disappearing. Just like everything else in life. Louis imagines those dystopian movies where the humans have devolved into nothing but little office desk parasites, back hunched like they carry the whole world, eyes glazed over like they’re too tired to wake or dream, typing away on their keyboards as they breathe. He’s undeniably one hairsbreadth away from that.

The thought makes him frown well into the last hour of his shift. Slowly, the students studying in the university library trickle away and he gets up to sort through his return pile, rearrange them, and place them back into their proper places in the various wooden shelves. Despite its decreasing additions, the library’s collection is actually pretty massive. The building itself is beautiful, boasting classical architecture and Corinthian columns, narrow, marble spiral staircases leading up to two more floors all bedecked with creaky, mahogany desks, little reading nooks, and warm, ambient lighting. The bookshelves are floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, requiring a wheeled step-in ladder to get to the topmost racks, and it’s just glorious. But Louis’s co-librarian, Dorothea, has been on maternity leave for a month now. And dear heavens above, has it been a fucking long month for Louis. Not to mention, the university custodians are asses too and rarely swing by the library to help with clean-up. Add to that the midterm rush, the record keeping and system updating, and the daily sorting through of books borrowed and returned, the petitions and budget proposals to get books added to the collection, _not even adding_ people like Caramel who just makes Louis’s job that much harder… Louis just can’t vacuum right now, okay?

He sighs deeply as he returns the last of the books on his cart, clicking the down button for the elevator. It’s a little creepy with the night sky visible outside and no one else in the building, but Louis’s used to it. There are worst things in life that lonely ghosts, after all. He wasn’t done with the paperwork for the day, but his thoughts were drifting back to Harry now and what they talked about, charcoal underwear notwithstanding. It makes his hands drop to freezing temperatures, don’t get him wrong. He’s just not sure yet if it’s a good or bad kind of anticipation.

He shuts the lights and locks the door with an oncoming headache from just thinking of what going out with Harry Styles could mean. It’s just a date, fuck it. Going out with someone means having fun and all that romantic shit. Why can’t Louis just react like a normal person for once? He slips his riding jacket and helmet on with an all-too-familiar heaviness in his heart. He kicks his motorcycle into gear, thinking everything always goes wrong for him anyway, so there’s no harm if he doesn’t.


	2. 2

From the moment Harry stepped foot on Wren Brighton University, he knew one thing for sure. He was in love with Louis Tomlinson. Well, he loved lovely Dorothea too. It was always a delight to catch up with firstly her dating adventures, then her wedding planning adventures, then her pregnancy, whenever he visited the library. The fact of the matter was, Harry hated university. Before freshman year, Harry wanted to major in English Literature. He was passionate about it. It felt like his niche, and he could go teach, afterwards. Teachers are respectable, aren’t they?

But his mother had other plans for her darling sweet boy. Giselle Elizabeth Styles wouldn’t be caught dead with a son earning pennies as a teacher. Lizzy Styles, formerly Lizzy Albert, was a New York socialite. She used to be a nobody, the daughter of bait shop owners in upstate Lake Placid, and bound to be a nobody for life. But she was determined to get out of that serene, doomed small-town assignation and fighting tooth and nail, found her way to Manhattan, where she met the man of her dreams at seventeen, thirty year old Wall Street consulting firm savvy and CEO, Richard Styles. Richard Styles was a cold, cruel man. Sure, he was handsome and austere and occasionally generous. But he was generous to his three other mistresses too. Harry could never understand why Lizzy would want the kind of relationship and marriage she has with his father.

After a year of marriage, Harry was born to them in record time. As a child, he never knew a father. In preparatory school, he heard rumors that Dick Styles had another family, a son who was also called Richard Styles. Apparently, Harry didn’t deserve to get the heirloom Christian name. It didn’t seem so far off his father’s track record. His mother didn’t bother him, either, and he was used to that, accompanied all his life instead by au pairs and play dates with a distant cousin from Dick’s side of the family, Gemma. Gems, he calls her. He had one best friend, the boy who lived at the penthouse above his, William Payne,Liam.They used to play a lot of Monopoly. He liked playing records on a vinyl player that he bought online on Amazon himself, and reading books he buys from the secondhand bookstore down the street. He felt his life was complete. He never felt like anything was missing, because he didn’t know what to miss.

So when it came to university, Harry was certain he could decide for himself what he wanted to do. He decided everything about his life so far, after all. Lizzy wholeheartedly begged to differ. Unbeknownst to Harry, Dick had started acquiring hospitals and HMOs. How totally awkward, random, isn’t it? He predicted that healthcare was the place to earn money in the future. Harry cannot know for sure if Dick was a fatalist or he was manifesting a deadly pandemic to come (and it would be all that greedy bastard’s bloody fault). And Lizzy, forever eager to please her absentee husband, insisted he study for a medical degree. Harry, a doctor? It was laughable! But lo and behold, Lizzy was adamant and here Harry was, nearly graduating with a degree in Applied Physics and accepted into Columbia University’s medicine program.

Harry didn’t have a better argument for wanting to study literature aside from, _I enjoy reading,_ which in itself seems to be everything and nothing at all. Harry didn’t have much passion for much else though, and so he didn’t put up a fight. He was incredibly adaptable and smart too, and knew he could handle studying for any degree. It didn’t seem like a problem at the time.

Until it was time to read and memorize books 700 pages long for a reading list that was at least thirty books strong. Oh boy, what did he get into? But he was adaptable, like he always iterates to himself, and he adjusted. It was bland and boring, and he felt like he wanted to die sometimes. But it was fine. He hated university, the peak and highlight of a normal eighteen year old’s life, but it was fine.

He talked to Dorothea first. That fateful mid-December afternoon on his very first semester, wintry and cruel and unforgiving. He had just recovered from a particularly terrible bout of flu, missed a few days of classes, and had to hunker down to catch up and study for his finals. He said hello to Dorothea at the desk and told her not to bother getting up, for he knew where to get the Feynman collections. He had already been to the library a hundred times at that point. He was just passing through the Poetry section (you know, for fun), when he bumps into _him_.

“Oops! I’m so sorry,” Harry mumbled immediately, blushing profusely and kneeling down to gather the books he had knocked out of the person’s hands.

The person chuckled. Harry remembers it clearly. It was breathy and a little high and considerably amused. “Hi. It’s fine, really.” He kneels down too, to help gather the awful lot of books, stacking them quickly with slim, delicate fingers.

Harry looked up at the same he did. Oh wow. Is this what a meet-cute feels like?

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes widening almost comically at the sight in front of him. This man was gorgeous. His eyes were bluer than icy Antarctic oceans, his eyelashes feathery soft, cheekbones defined like they could cut glass and his thin, pink lips smirking slightly. One curved eyebrow was raised in almost a challenge. He had the barest hint of scruff in his face and the fluffiest looking chestnut-colored bangs. Wow, Harry wanted to touch. If this isn’t just the most romantic thing in the world! To meet the most beautiful man in the midst of the world’s most beautiful words. Harry swore he could swoon, right then and there. Elizabeth Bennet could _never_.

The thought makes him smile, and he ducks his head to try to hide it. He runs his fingers through his curls after he hands back his stack of books and stands up, surreptitiously trying to fix the messed-up mop. If he knew this meet-cute was scheduled today, he would have took some time to style it.

The man arranges his stack of books in one hand and holds out the other. “I’m actually new here. My name’s Louis. Dorothea’s co-librarian.”

Co-librarian? Wow. Sexy librarians are a thing, after all this time. “H-hi, I’m Harry!” He tries to recover and quickly shakes Louis’s hand. “I’m new too! Ha, cos I’m a freshman. But new to you, too, I suppose. I also suppose that we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other? Because I spend a lot of time here, is what I’m saying.” Great job, Harry! You sound like such as asshole.

Louis only laughs softly. “Cool. Nice to meet you.”

Harry actually realizes just now that Louis has an accent, a damn British accent. Did Harry just Hocus Pocus this shit, because the man of his dreams is literally in front of him? He can’t dwell on that now; he has this important conversation to keep up! He swears he feels as if his life depended on it.

He must have been staring for a long time though, because Louis just gives a tiny little wave and retreats. What Harry wouldn’t give to talk to him a little while longer. Just to hear the little T’s disappearing from his sentences one more time.

It’s safe to say Harry didn’t get to borrow the Feynman books that day. When Harry unlocked his apartment after sprinting home because he had too many butterflies in his stomach he felt like he would vomit, he realized he was getting ahead of himself. He can’t possibly luck out on having the perfect first and last boyfriend, who was named Louis, who was apparently British and was probably more well-read than him (that was possible! He was a librarian, how dreamy). They won’t make it to Say Yes to The Dress, because see, life isn’t nice to Harry, and Louis could in fact be straight. That would put a damper on the fantasies. Dammit, he wanted to wear an all-lace white suit. He’s kidding, of course.

All through the rest of that academic year and sophomore year, Harry made sure to visit the library once or twice a week. Sometimes it truly was necessary. A lot of classes were snobs on internet references, and he really did have to stay until closing time to research for his various, torturous papers. He really did. Sometimes he just wanted to go because he missed Louis. More often than not, he didn’t have any research or homework, and he would grab a poetry book that he had already read, sit down on one of the reading nooks close to the main desk, and just sit and admire the heaven-sent likeness of Louis Tomlinson. There was no better way to spend an idle afternoon.

Almost two years of observation under his belt, and Harry still doesn’t know if he has a chance with him. Maybe he had a girlfriend or a boyfriend? Maybe he was in a progressive, poly-amorous relationship. Dear lord, what if he was married? He seemed like a put-together enough adult for that sort of thing. He knows Louis brings a packed lunch except on Wednesdays, oftentimes a turkey sandwich or ham and rye and a thermos of tea. He goes to lunch with Dorothea on Wednesdays at the shawarma kiosk across campus. They love the beef one and share a plate of nachos. Louis requests his cucumbers to be removed from his order.

He owns a black riding jacket and a sleek red motorcycle. He’s just perfect! He returns the books at the end of the day, unlike Dorothea who returns them back to the shelves as they come. He gets cold too fast, donning a black hoodie as soon as the air-conditioning drops to 22 degrees. He owns two Parker pens and one generic one. He even has a mechanical pencil. He wears glasses sometimes when he uses the computer, and likes his sneakers Adidas. It’s not creepy at all that Harry knows all of this. He doesn’t know the important stuff, after all. 

He stumbles upon his answer in the worst way possible. He was on his way to returning some doctoral dissertations before his last class of the day the August of his junior year. He was even whistling, swinging the two hardbound papers on his right hand. His black boots squeak to a stop when he hears them, arguing on the alley along the side of the great library building. Like a deer caught in headlights, Harry pauses, his hand pressed to his mouth as he retreats as quietly as he could behind a nearby tree.

Louis was crying, quiet sobs that he was painfully obviously trying to stop. Harry sneaks a peek, thinking _I should leave_. But something held him back. Louis was clutching this tall, lean man with spiky hair, his arms wrapped tight around the man’s chest. The man was a bit taller than him and staring morosely into nothing above his head, his jaw set in a hard line.

“Nick, please,” Louis begged, his voice breaking. Harry closed his eyes. Why was Louis hurting? “Nick, please don’t leave me. Please. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Please, Nick.”

He was visibly shaking, but the man, Nick, was pushing him away. “I’m sorry, Louis. I am. But I’m... tired. I can’t.”

This made Louis’ sobs louder, more desperate, like he was running out of time to live. “Nick, you’re all I have...” He takes a deep breath, clearly trying to hold himself together. “Please, Nick, don’t do this.”

Nick takes a deep, exasperated breath. He dislodges Louis’s grip on him firmly, clutching his hands instead. “I have to do this, Louis. I’ll always care for you, always. I’ll always be here for you, you know that. But I have to take some distance for now. I can’t do this anymore.” He lets go of Louis’s hands, his lips pressed tightly together. “I’m sorry.”

Nick takes a step back and Louis follows, but Nick puts his hands up. He shakes his head hard. “I have to go, Louis.”

Then he just walks away.

It looked like he took Louis’ soul with him.

Louis collapses on the steps leading to the side entrance of the library. He was sobbing uncontrollably now, hands covering his face, knees curling up like his very center hurt. The sky seemed to dim with the tragedy of a scene, and Harry took a hesitant step toward him. He should help him, right? An almost total stranger can ask if he was okay, right? He can’t let Louis keep crying like this. It made him want to burst into tears, too.

He can’t, though. It was too much like intruding. Harry walked back to the physics building instead, dissertations clutched close to his chest, his heart breaking for a boy he didn’t even really know, much less know how to comfort.


	3. 3

Louis was jostled to the top of the mattress as Nick fucked into him relentlessly. He gasps for breath as another jab hits his prostate, and he clutches at the iron railings of the bed. He arches his back and shuts his eyes in pleasure, mouth falling open as he tries to meet each merciless thrust inside him with his own.

Nick’s right hand wraps around his neck while his other hand rests lightly on his heart, feeling its frantic beating. “That’s it, love. Fuck, you feel so good, Lou.”

Louis moans. He could feel tears prick his eyes as Nick’s hand slides down his torso, grasping firmly at his cock. His strokes were sure and in rhythm with every thrust, and Louis feels about ready to let go. His sweat pooled on his collarbones and mingled with Nick’s behind his back. He could hear Nick’s shallow breaths on his ear as he nibbled on its shell. He had never felt so pliant, so lost in the lack of control. “Nick..” he whines, incapable of saying much else.

“I got you, Lou. I always got you.”

With one last upstroke twist on the head of his dick and a cry, Louis comes.

Louis jolts upright in bed, his head feeling like a freight train had come crashing through it. He looks at the clock at his bedside table. 7:55 am. Five minutes before he was supposed to wake up, on the dot. He presses his palms to his neck, shivering at the coldness of his skin. He didn’t even get hard from that fucking wet dream. Because it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory, and it left him with a hollow feeling in his chest instead. It was the last time he and Nick ever fucked. That very afternoon, Nick broke them forever.

Why did his subconscious make him dream that moment particularly?

Taking a deep breath, he checks his phone to distract himself.

_**Goodnight, Lou! Remember, lunch and a movie tomorrow! ;)** _

Harry. God, Louis was a fucking terrible person. Having wet dreams of his ex when his silly little crush was taking him out the very same day. On a cute movie date, too. Harry didn’t deserve this. Harry’s too pure for this kind of shit.

_**Harry? I realize I may have to cancel...** _

Something kept Louis from sending it, though. He remembered the way Harry toed on the carpet and word vomited his invitation, the deep red blush on his cheeks. He imagined his sweet smile fading when he tells him he had to cancel. Now _, that_ would make him even more of a terrible person. With a groan, Louis stands up and erases his draft. He can reply once he’s cleared his head.

It only takes a few steps to get into the shower, as Louis’ bathroom is directly across his bedroom and beside the kitchen, with only a flimsy gray door separating them. The studio wasn’t that big and gave no privacy at all if he had any guests. Good thing he didn’t have any. He was shivering as he puts on his clothes for the day, almost blindly, because he didn’t want to overthink and overdress for Harry. Nobody wants to look like a blubbering idiot who hadn’t gone on a real, official first date in literally years. That’s never a cool thing.

He gives up trying to fix his hair once the clock reaches ten o’clock. He didn’t realize he was moving at such a snail’s pace. The nerves were getting to him, though, and his stomach was starting to grumble uncomfortably. Right, he didn’t even bother getting a nibble of breakfast.

Pulling the door closed with much effort, he locks it with his key card and crosses the hallway to Niall’s studio. He knocks lightly, worried he might still be asleep. But Niall answers after the third knock, bright eyes and red cheeks, hair a platinum blonde mess. “Hiya, Lou. Was waiting for you to drop by.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Oh, you were?” he asks skeptically. He bounds to the tiny refrigerator and retrieves a box of Coco Pops. Niall always had a running supply for him especially.

“Oh, toss that back to the fridge, Louis. I made a proper breakfast for us!” Niall claps Louis in the back almost harshly, pushing him toward the tiny dining table set and retrieving a set of pans from the stove. They were iron-set and green and looked like they should be placed in a garden. They most likely are garden furniture.

Louis’s eyes widen in amazement at the food set before him. “Wow, Niall, you really pulled out all the stops in this. What’s the occasion?” He could feel his stomach almost reach for it along his esophagus, the stacks of chocolate chip pancakes, the oily strips of bacon and links of sausage, the fresh slices of Washington apple, the shiny sunny-side-up eggs. He couldn’t recall the last time he had a breakfast spread like this.

Niall laughs a full, throaty laugh, spearing a sausage into his plate. “Actually, my girl spent the night. But she had an exam to proctor. Poor dears, I tell you. An exam on a Saturday? I made this and made some for you, too.”

“Aw, Niall, mate! Thank you.” Louis clutches his hand to his chest dramatically as he pours the orange juice into his glass. Freshly-squeezed orange juice. It just blows Louis’s mind. “ _Your girl,_ huh? Made it official then?”

Niall’s ruddy cheeks get even redder. He swallows the food he was chewing and clears his throat. “Uhm, yeah, actually! Hey, you’re the first person to know. Hailee and I are like a real couple now. Niallee is real.”

Louis bursts out laughing and tosses his table napkin to Niall’s head. “Shut the fuck up! But congratulations, damn. You lot took your time.”

Niall stands up and takes a dramatic bow, waving as if he was the Queen and there was an audience in his little studio. “Thank you, one. Thank you, all.”

Louis laughs and shakes his head. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that Niall is a tenured professor at the university with a master’s degree in gender studies. He doesn’t even know why he lives in this shitty building.

“Why you wearing your date pants, then?”Niall asks out of the blue, as they finished off their plates.

“No, I’m not,” Louis replies reflexively, although he’s pretty sure he is.

Niall raises one eyebrow. “Yes, you are. Who is it? That’s great, man!”

“I haven’t even told you who yet.”

“Doesn’t matter! But, who is it?”

Louis stands up with his plate and walks toward the sink. He runs it under the water and replies softly, “D’you remember that cute boy at the library? The one who I told you seems like a genius, because he reads _both_ Bukowski and Feynman?” He eyes the clock above Niall’s door. Holy shit, one hour.

“Do you mean that tall, curly one, Harry Styles?”

Louis’s head whips around to look at Niall. He only looks back curiously, swinging his ankle on top of his knee back and forth. “You... you know him?”

“Well, you may have forgotten, but you told me his name,” Niall says bemusedly, with a smirk. “Also, I know him personally. I’m the moderator for student affairs as you know, and he’s best friends with the Student Council President, Payne? They’re pretty close.”

“Oh,” Louis replies lamely. This is new information. “I’ve never encountered a Payne in the library.”

“He’s an IT major, that’s why.”

“Uh-huh.”

Niall snorts. “They seem like brothers.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “What are you even doing, Niall? It’s just a date.”

Niall bumps his hip wordlessly with his own, and they finish the dishes without another word.

“Can I wait for the cursed firsthand clock to tick to twelve here? I... I don’t want to be alone,” Louis murmurs, plopping down on Niall’s unmade bed and hugging a pillow to his chest, leaning back on the worn wooden headboard. “Let’s watch some shit TV.”

“Sure.” Niall lies down beside him, arm curling around his shoulders. “Lunch date, then?”

Louis nods wordlessly.

In the middle of the _Friends_ re-run episode they were watching, Niall finally decides to speak up. “Lou?”

“Mmm?”

“You don’t have to go. I’m sure Harry’s a nice guy, but you don’t have to go if you don’t feel ready for it.”

Louis meets Niall’s clear blue eyes, brimming with concern and kindness, his forehead creased with obvious worry. He smiles as calmly as he could and squeezes Niall’s hand once. “I’m fine, Ni. Really. I.. I actually want to go. I really like him.”

Niall grins back, everything good in the world beaming back at Louis. “That’s great, Lou. Let me know how it goes. You have to tell me every dirty detail.”

Louis chuckles. “Obviously, I will.”

They turn back to the television, and Louis eyes the clock from the corner of his eye. 30 minutes. For a couple of years now and especially in the last few months, Louis felt like Niall was all he had left. He knew everything that had happened to him, helped him through the different phases of his grief and pain. He let him cry and get over it and try his best to stand up on his own two feet again. He knew more than anybody what going out with somebody again meant for him, how this was the first boy he even gave a chance to after who he thought was the fucking love of his life broke his heart. He owed it to Niall to tell him how the date goes, at least.

  
  


Louis could feel the date was going to be awkward as fuck. They met in front of the library, because Harry turned out to be superstitious like that. And Louis was ten minutes late. His anxiety made him delay his departure from Niall’s apartment, and Niall had to walk him to the exit of their building himself, squeezing his hand once tight, then regrettably letting go. If it was up to Louis, he’d spend this whole weekend bumming around at home. Harry brushed his apologies away without even batting an eyelid, and proceeds to guide him to his Range Rover. Yes, this boy who looks like he could still be playing Captain Hook at a high school production of Peter Pan is in possession of a sports car more expensive than Louis’s little studio apartment. This day just keeps better and better.

“I discovered there’s a drive-thru cinema a few blocks off campus. Isn’t that great?” Harry had funny retro-looking sunglasses perched on his head, pushing his curls away from his face, and his one arm was hanging casually off the side of the open window as he backed away from the parking space. He was totally the personification of cool. “They’re showing _Gone with the Wind_.”

“Oh, none of the recent movies, then?” Louis asks, trying his best to keep his register level and nonchalant. “That’s a shocker.”

“Definitely,” Harry agrees. He has both hands on the wheel now, and did Louis mention how gorgeous he looked? He was wearing a light brown-colored jumper that reached his knuckles, brown suede boots, and black skinny jeans. The simplest look in the world and he looked like he could walk a runway. Harry Styles is unreal. “I figured you’d like it? Margaret Mitchell’s great. Uhm... did I ever tell you _Gone with the Wind_ was the first book I ever read? It was just there in our library and I thought.. wow, what a big book? Is this the Bible or something?”

Louis laughs incredulously. “I hope it’s not your Bible.”

Harry laughs. Louis could hear a hint of nervousness. “Of course not! Of course not! What about you? Is it okay to ask about the first real book you ever read? I would suppose you love reading?”

Interesting. None of the two other casual dates he went to before he met Nick asked about his reading milestones or habits. “First legit book, you ask? Probably _To Kill A Mockingbird_. Think it was assigned reading, though.”

“That’s no fun.” Harry grins mischievously, as though what he said was the most offensive of insults.

“Sorry, it seemed like you were looking for a more interesting answer. I do remember loving _One Hundred Years of Solitude_?”

“Oh, I loved that!” Harry seemed genuinely thrilled by Louis’s rather insouciant admission.

Louis laughs softly at him, crinkles appearing by his eyes as he smiles. “You’re just adorable, do you know?” He sneaks a peek at Harry and is delighted to see that his combustion face is back on, the deep red flush visibly reaching his neck.

Harry squirms, swallowing visibly. “T-thanks! I really like you too, so much, Louis.”

Louis presses his lips together to keep from grinning. “Sure, Harry. But you don’t know the first thing about me.”

Harry glances at him, and he looked almost smug, like Louis just gave the subtlest opening to flirt and he fucking caught it like a big boy. “I’d like it if you let me know you, then.”

Louis rolls his eyes and laughs, but he looks out his window with the biggest grin on his face.


	4. 4

Harry wanted to hold Louis’s hand. He only ever held one boy’s hand his whole life. It was in music camp the summer before fourth grade, and he deemed himself in love with a boy named Zayn. He was a little older than him, attending camp for advanced voice lessons, and he was gorgeous. No, you don’t understand, he was ethereal and Harry didn’t even understand why he was feeling that way about a boy. One was only supposed to play soccer and Monopoly with boys, right? That’s what he and Liam do when they hang out, and he never wanted to hold Liam’s hand. Aside from that one time, when they watched _The Exorcism of Emily Rose_ , because that was terrifying.

Not Zayn, though. Boy, did Harry want to hold his hand. So, he did. They were sort of friends. He would play piano while Zayn would practice his voice runs, because the piano players his age didn’t like staying late into the night at the practice room, opting instead to make out with other camp attendees or smoke a joint. Zayn was sitting beside him at the piano bench so Harry decided to go for it. He grabbed Zayn’s hand and intertwined their fingers together. “I think we belong together, Zaynie,” Harry declared with as much confidence as he could.

Zayn merely frowned a little, staring at their fingers folded into each other, then promptly let go of Harry’s hand, patting his knuckles gently. “You’re sweet, Harry. But I have a girlfriend back home.” He smiled gently, eyes glorious smoldering ambers, and ruffled Harry’s hair. And that was the summary of physical stuff he did with boys, ever.

Louis made him want to change the status of his... virginity, though. That was super rash. He just meant, that he wanted to hold Louis’s hand for more than two minutes. But Louis seemed nervous, a far cry from his quiet confidence in the library. He was alright when they ate lunch, laughing at Harry’s habit of sticking his tongue out before eating anything and offering to split dessert. In the confines of the Range Rover, however, as the opening credits of _Gone with the Wind_ began, Louis seemed consumed by something. He was obviously in distress, playing with his fingers almost obsessively, fixing his fringe, fidgeting like his ass was scratchy. Was his ass scratchy? Probably not, his ass is perfect. Harry can’t take this anymore.

“Lou?” he asks tentatively. “Are you okay?”

Louis looked like a caught crook. He cleared his throat before speaking. “What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Would you like me to... get something to eat? That popcorn and Skittles I was telling you about?”

Louis laughs almost breathlessly. “No, no need. I’m still pretty full from lunch, Harry, thanks.” He proceeds to play with a hole on the knee of his light-washed jeans. Clockwise, counterclockwise, over and over.

Louis was miserable. He’s such a horrible date. Fueled by his sudden disappointment with himself, Harry grabs Louis’s fidgeting hand and takes it in his, intertwining them. “Is-Is this okay?”

He wasn’t even sure if Louis heard, but he must’ve, because he nodded mutely.

 _Gone with the Wind_ is such a poor choice for a first date movie. It’s way too long. And Louis doesn’t even seem to be watching. His breaths seem to have gone shallow, but when Harry glances his way, he looked fine. His palm seems sweaty, but Harry didn’t dare let go. When the movie was over, Harry clears his throat and offers to take them to an ice cream parlor. Maybe this could still be salvageable. This can’t be going this way. He liked Louis _so much_ , and he got no progress today at all. To add insult to injury, Louis seemed even more distant.

“Lou, I’m sorry,” he suddenly proclaims, on the drive back to Louis’s building just outside the university. _It can’t just end like this_.

Louis’s head whips his way fast. “What? No, no, this was nice, Harry. But I think I’m coming down with something. A bit of a cold, to be honest. I don’t feel so good.”

That did not shock Harry one bit. Louis was a nice enough person to let him down easy. “Am I such a bore to you?” he says instead, trying to sound playful.

Louis takes a deep breath, and looked away out his window, hiding his face. “Harry, I’m sorry. I really don’t feel so good.” His voice sounded faint.

Harry was kind of worried now. Maybe Louis did feel a cold coming. “Okay, Lou. We’re close to your place now. You should take some medicine before it worsens.”

When he parks in front of the building Louis pointed to, he looks Louis square in the face, but he won’t meet his eyes. “Maybe we can do something again, some time?” He tries not to sound as desperate as he feels.

Louis smiled a smile so small it almost wasn’t there. “Maybe.” He lifts his hand and rests it on Harry’s cheek, thumb gently stroking Harry’s cheekbone. “Thank you, Curly.” Just as quickly, he turns around and opens the car door. He looks back one last time before opening the glass door of his building and entering without another word.

Harry wonders if there’s something wrong with him as he drove back to his apartment, and then veered left suddenly, to Liam’s gym. One glance at the clock and he knew Liam would be there. He just wanted to know why all the boys just seem to... not like him at all. While he likes them an _awful_ lot.

He parks as carefully as he could, despite his whirling thoughts, in the gym’s parking lot. He waves sheepishly at the nice blonde receptionist by the door and hurries to the pool. He sits at one of the front benches as Liam swims his laps.

“Harry!” he exclaims, as he climbs out of the pool, after what seemed like 45 minutes worth of breast strokes. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date? Didn’t get lucky then?” Liam wiggles his eyebrows playfully, sitting down beside Harry all dripping wet, his eyes bright, happy brown.

Harry slaps his shoulder, blushing. “It’s not about getting lucky, Lee-yum. I really do like Louis.”

“As I have bore witness to _years_ of your pining, I assure you, you do. What happened then?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. He caught his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger as he reminisced about the date. “I think... I think he was really anxious for some reason, Li. But I also think that maybe he wasn’t that impressed with me.” He cringes at the thought.

“Well, I don’t see that happening. You’re very impressive!” Liam stands up and retrieves a towel from a bench two rows up, wiping himself dry.

Harry whirls around to face him and rolls his eyes. “That’s debatable. But he said he didn’t feel well, that he was catching a cold. I’m not sure if it’s true or he’s just being nice.”

“There’s only one way to know, H.”

“What?”

“Ask him out again! If he shuts you down, it’s confirmation you are indeed unimpressive.” Liam laughs like he just said the funniest joke _ever_.

“Ha ha,” Harry replies sarcastically. He stands up and stretches, hurrying to follow Liam back to the locker rooms. “I should, shouldn’t I? He did say _maybe_ we can do something again?”

Liam walks backward and grins at him, eyes drawing shut from how big his grin is. “That’s a good sign! Don’t give up just yet, H. You’ve been waiting for this chance since... forever.”

“He did call me Curly. Before he left. That’s definitely a sign of flirting, right? He held my cheek like this!” Harry saunters clumsily forward and reenacts Louis’s thumb brushing his cheekbone on Liam’s face.

Liam giggles and swats his hand away. “You liar! That tickles. I think he genuinely likes you, if he did that, really.”

“Really?” Harry echoes. His heart thumps in his chest. He just has to be brave enough to ask Louis out again. Maybe the next date will be better. _It better be_. Say Yes to the Dress, remember?

“No harm in trying again, right?” Liam says with a shrug.

Definitely. Harry totally agrees with that. They leave the gym with his heart a little lighter and a thousand times more hopeful.


	5. 5

Louis didn’t make it up to his studio. He made it to the landing of the second floor staircase before he collapsed to a hopeless heap, taking shallow breaths. His vision was blurring, filling with tears. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. He felt like he was going to faint.

He was such a fucked up piece of shit. He curls up and hugs his middle, as pain like heartburn raced all along his chest. He hides his face on his knees, crying silently and closing his eyes.

 _Fuck-up. Fuck-up. Fuck-up._ You’re nothing but a fucked up shit. Fuck-up. Fuck-up.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, curled up on himself, killing himself inside his mind, wallowing in self-pity, until Niall showed up in front of him.

“Lou,” he murmured softly. He took Louis’ shaking form into his arms, rubbing circles into his back like he knew he needed. “Calm down, Lou. Take a breath for me.”

Louis couldn’t feel his hands. Niall takes both in one of his, clutching Louis’s fists to his chest. “Feel my breathing? Breathe with me, Lou, shit.” Louis’s fists tightened, and he focused on Niall’s eyes as he tries to breathe. Please, he just wants to be able to breathe.

“Better?”

Louis nods mutely, and Niall helps him stand, leading him slowly up the stairs to the fifth floor. “What did Harry do? I’ll beat the shit out of that kid.”

The notion shocked Louis back to being able to speak. “He was perfect, Ni.” That was all he had to say about that. They reach their floor finally, and Niall retrieves Louis’s key card from the back pocket of his jeans. They enter his apartment and Niall deposits him on his bed. Louis immediately curls up on his side, facing the wall. He was a grown-up, damn it. He wasn’t supposed to have Niall help him up the fucking stairs because of a date gone wrong.

Niall pats his back quietly, going to the mini fridge and fetching a bottle of water. “At least drink something, Lou. I’ll take your shoes off.”

He takes the bottle of water and places it on his nightstand. “How did you find me?”

“Lee found you, man.” Niall sits at the foot of the bed, face forlorn. “She was coming home from the exams. Figured the date didn’t go well?”

Louis looks down at his hands clasped tightly together, and he wants to cry. He can’t even go on a perfect date with the sweetest, most perfect boy and be able to handle it. “He was great, Niall. Lunch was great. The movie was decent... I just... can’t seem to get out my own head. God, I’m such a fuck-up.”

“Don’t ever say that,” Niall chided sternly. “Nobody’s a fuck-up.”

“But, I _am,_ ” Louis sniffed. He swipes his palm over his eyes and curls away from Niall again. He just wants to cry in peace now. “He’s everything I fantasized him to be and more. He’s so funny, too. But I keep thinking that everything’s going to shit at some point, isn’t it? And it did. And it’s all my fault. I deserve it if he never calls again. I feel sorry for the bloke. Where would he borrow books from now?”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is, Lou,” Niall reassures, his voice immensely sad. Great, now he upset Niall, on the day Niallee became real.

“Thank you, Niall, but I’d really like to be alone for now.”

“Lou...”

“Please, go? Tell Hailee hi for me.”

“Okay. Drink some water, please?” Niall says hesitantly. He strokes Louis’s hair for a while, gets up, then closes the door softly behind him.

___

Louis won’t ever forget the moment the doctors said his mother was dying. It was one week before Louis’s graduation, and his mother commuted to Upstate New York from Brooklyn specifically for the ceremony. Lorraine “Rainy” Tomlinson was a freelance masseuse and she even canceled the whole weekend’s appointments specifically for him, which she always playfully reminded him with a pinch to his cheek. He would complain it hurt, but deep inside, he was just so happy to see his mother again. They try to visit each other as much as they could, but with Louis’s packed schedule and his mother’s interesting social life, they miss some months. Louis swore they won’t miss any months now that he just got accepted into a stably scheduled job in the university library.

They were drinking milkshakes at the diner across campus, Louis’s chocolate and Rainy’s strawberry. Louis pretended to gag at that. They were laughing one moment, then suddenly his mother was vomiting into the floor, clutching her head and complaining that the world seemed to be spinning. Something cold ran through Louis’ spine at that moment, and it wasn’t a good feeling at all. The restaurant staff scrambled to help them, and Louis could do nothing but clutch his mother’s hand as they waited for the ambulance, then as Rainy was carried inside. He sat beside the paramedic with fear clenching his stomach.

This shit can’t possibly be happening. Shit like this happens in movies, not in real life. _Mom can’t be dying_. It’s probably just a hypoglycemic attack? Allergies? A really bad headache? Louis felt like the world was moving along in front of him in ways he did not want, spinning, arcing, out of control, and he did not want to be dragged along. It’s all going to be okay, right?

But he looks down at his mother, lying still on the cot, stoic, unspeaking, almost unconscious. This woman who was so full of love and joy and passion and laughter, suddenly reduced to this. _He_ was the sick one, always catching a fever, always crying from a tummy ache from eating too much peanut butter or yogurt milk, always sobbing from one bully or one nightmare to another. This can’t be happening. Please, anything else can happen but this.

He was confused as they arrived at the hospital. Rainy was rushed immediately to a CT scan, and Louis was asked to wait in the waiting room. He just wanted to know that everything’s going to be okay. “Mom, I’m right outside, okay?” That was the last words he said that he knew his mother heard, before they wheeled her to the scan rooms.

What even is happening? He bit as his nails as he paced around the waiting room, retrieving his phone from his pocket to text Nick. What would he even say? Fuck it.

Nick arrives before the doctors. He asks what’s happening, and Louis could only shrug helplessly. Nick guides him back to one of the seats and holds his hand tight, soothing him with little circles to his knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Lou, fuck. I’m sure they’ll come back with answers soon,” was all he could say.

The doctors come back, an attending and his intern, it seems.

“Are you Mrs. Tomlinson’s son?” The doctor seemed hassled, not even looking Louis in the eye.

“I am,” Louis said, voice almost a whisper.

“Where’s the husband? Are there any other family members who you think would like to be informed of this?”

“No. Just me,” Louis choked out. Fuck. Shit. This can’t be happening.

The doctors look at him like he was a weird creature. They proceeded with the announcement, anyway. The pronouncement of his mother, his only family’s imminent death. “Your mother had a cerebral aneurysm. There’s too much bleeding, and we can’t operate to clip it or remove it. She’s on life support right now, but not for much longer. Her body would give up after some time.”

Jesus, could they calm down any further? They sounded like they were discussing the highlights of a football game and unfortunately, you know, the team you bet on lost. _Okay, good to know, you psycho robots_. Louis nodded without really hearing them, as they told him about decisions regarding cutting off the electrolyte infusions soon, possible outcomes, and required paperwork. He felt like his legs were giving up on him as the doctors moved on, to numbly deliver other world-shattering news to other unknowing family members.

Nick caught him before he fell and clutched him tightly to his chest. He could vaguely feel his scalp get wet with Nick’s tears. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry.”

Louis could only nod and stare blindly at the hospital hallway in front of him. This has to be some kind of joke, right? Rainy can’t be gone. She was here a fucking hour ago. They were talking about hiking plans for Louis’s month off before his first day at work. She was going to introduce him to the quirky new friends she met at a coffee shop back in Brooklyn. He was supposed to take her to California the next year for the summer vacation she always dreamed about. He was saving up for it. The world can’t just snuff out the bright, glorious light that was her, can it?

It can, apparently. Two days after, Rainy passed away. And Louis wasn’t the same ever again, after he attended his mother’s funeral that week instead of his graduation ceremony.


	6. 6

Louis had resigned himself to having lost his chance with Harry. He probably won’t call or text again, probably irritated with Louis, or most likely, just weirded out. Harry would think about what he could have possibly done to ruin their date, being the nice guy that he was. And then realize that Louis was the weird one all along, acting strange since the beginning, and move on. He’d assume right, after all. So, Louis goes about his Monday morning like any other Monday morning, despite the constant headache reverberating through his skull and the slight shake in his hands. Nobody has to know he’s all kinds of out of sorts. It’s not like anybody notices him behind the glass of the library desk, anyway.

He parked his motorcycle at the back of the library and fumbled inside his knapsack for the keys. It was only 6:00 am, two hours before the library was supposed to open, and he was planning to catch up on some paperwork prior to students coming in. The sun wasn’t completely up yet, and there was a notable chill in the air for early March.

“Louis!”

“Fucking hell!” Louis exclaims, jumping a foot from the marble floors, dropping his keys. He bends down to retrieve them and straightens up to find a set of black boots in front of him. He lifts his eyes and meets Harry’s green ones, wide, shining, almost manic. “H-Harry? What are you doing here? It’s the fucking crack of dawn.”

“I know.” Harry fidgets, scratching his scalp lightly. He shifts his hold on a thermos from one hand to another. “My classes don’t actually start until nine... But you know, it was such a cold, breezy sort of day.. I thought, why not start now? So I went for an extremely early.. early run...”

Harry was rambling nervously again. He didn’t look like he was out on a run at all. “What are you doing here, Harry?” Louis was too far gone in his pit of darkness to hope much else.

“I actually wanted to talk to you,” Harry admits sheepishly instead. “Like, I wanted to make sure you were feeling better?”

Oh, civic duty, then. Harry is too good for this world.

Louis tries his best to smile. “I’m fine, Harry. The cold came and went. So there’s that. Thank you for checking up on me.” He needs to escape, ASAP. He turned around and inserted his keys to the doorknob, pushing the door open aggressively.

But Harry follows him inside. Dammit.

“Lou, I actually want to ask, if you want to hang out again? We could go for lunch during your lunch break... or dinner would be great too?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea anymore,” Louis placates him, even as his heart started to quicken in his chest. This can’t be possible. He already pushed Harry away this weekend, didn’t he? For what reason is he coming back for more? There’s nothing to come back to.

“Anymore?” Harry repeats, his voice sounding extremely upset all of a sudden.

Louis enters the library desk and fumbles around with his pens for a while, arranging them by point size. From his peripheral vision, he can see Harry pacing in front of the Plexiglas, playing nervously with his fingers and waiting for his reply. He has to end this now.

“It’s nothing personal, Harry. I’m sorry,” Louis mumbles. It hurt to say this. But he’s just unable to go out with Harry again, ever. Even if Harry, without his knowledge, was one of the only people who livened up his existence. “I just... I don’t think I’m looking for that sort of thing right now.”

Harry visibly deflates at that. But suddenly his eyes were boring straight into Louis’ soul. “We don’t have to be a _thing_ at all! Truly, I just think you’re such an interesting person, Lou. And, I’d really like to just get to know you, be your friend... if you’d like.”

“Are you sure you want that? Don’t want to just get in my pants?” Louis asks, trying to be sarcastic but coming out defeated instead.

Harry was shaking his head before he was even done. “I just like you a lot, and I’d really like to get to know you. And, I have a feeling you want to know me too. There’s nothing wrong with that, yeah? Being friends?” he asks eagerly, suddenly latching on to this seemingly spontaneous new plan.

Louis wanted to sigh so deep his chakras would come out. He didn’t know what could possibly become with that, being friends with someone you wanted to be more than your friend. But he didn’t want to be without Harry either. He shrugs instead, smiling faintly. It felt like something was clawing at his throat. “I guess we could be friends.”

“Cool! So got any plans for the day, then?”

“You could come to dinner at my place? I always eat dinner at my neighbor’s on Mondays.”

“Oh, that’d be cool. I’d love that.” Harry grins at him so huge it looked like his dimples could damage his cheeks. Louis wanted to smooth it out a little. “What time is this dinner party?”

That shocked a laugh out of Louis. “It’s not a dinner party, Harry. It’s probably just pizza and some FIFA.”

“I’d never had fifa before.”

Louis chuckles, his lips pinching together in amusement. “You... what? Don’t you know what FIFA is?”

“What? Is it an acronym for falafels or something?” Harry seemed genuinely confused, his eyebrows furrowing intensely.

Louis shook his head in amusement and doesn’t answer. “What are you doing before class at 9 am then, Harold?”

Harry’s smile comes back tenfold, his nose scrunching adorably. “My name’s just Harry, actually. I think I’m just gonna hang out there, catch up on some reading.” He walks back to his usual reading nook, the one right beside the mahogany desks, smiles, and retrieves a textbook from his little leather messenger bag. Yup, he has a leather messenger bag like he works in an office as a paralegal or some shit.

Louis truly couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Does he really get to hang out with Harry without the looming notions of dating over his head? Harry must be some bored kid, wanting to hang out with the boring old librarian. It must be some bet or practical joke. But Louis looks up from the monitor of the ancient library computer and Harry was already looking at him, with dazzled eyes and the happiest smile, and he doesn’t know what to think.

Harry comes back later as he closes the library, already waiting for him as he locks up on the front entrance steps. He was sprawled across it, his weight supported by his arms, looking up at the night sky with squinted eyes, huge, noise-canceling headphones on his ears. Louis tentatively taps his shoulder, and he pulls his headphones down with a grin.

“Lou!” he exclaims, jumping up and down in excitement. “So, do I get to ride your motorcycle tonight?”

“I suppose,” Louis replies with a chuckle. “It’s parked out back, actually.”

They walk silently along the short alleyway leading to the back of the library. Louis thanks his lucky stars that he never removed the spare helmet inside his motorcycle’s seat. He puts on his riding jacket and helmet trying not to smile so much, as Harry stuffs his head into the neon green helmet. “I’m sorry it’s such an ugly color.”

“I love it!” Harry shouts from inside the helmet, then giggles when he realized he didn’t need to shout. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

“You’re shitting me.” Louis mounts and shuffles forward to make room for Harry. Harry’s legs are so long, his thighs surround Louis’s torso. And Louis tries hard not to think about that. He can smile all he wants about it, though. Harry won’t ever know.

The ride back to his building was only ten minutes long. But it definitely was one of the best ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t think he can handle Harry inside his studio though, so he leads him straight to Niall’s.

“Where did you park your car?”

“Oh, I really did run to school,” Harry answers nonchalantly, following Louis up the staircase. “I’m the secretary of the track team? So I just shower and change in our locker room, afterwards.”

“You’re the secretary?” Jesus, Harry was such a quirky kid without even trying. Who even says that, _I’m the secretary of the track team._

“Yeah, I run too. I actually.. won bronze at state last year! That’s weird, to brag about that, but I didn’t want you to think I was the loser who signed up for track to time the runners and keep files of their records... Although, I do help Rob sometimes! And he’s not a loser at all. He’s a music major and has such sick punk rock playlists...” 

“You do talk some shit, Curly,” Louis comments. He makes a turn toward their hallway. “Congrats, by the way. On that bronze. That’s impressive.” 

Harry beams at that little praise. Jesus, Louis was being so unfair to Harry, if he’s so happy with that little reassurance that Louis liked him. From that moment on, Louis decided to be the best friend he could be. Maybe Harry needed a friend too. 

“Thanks! I actually think I’m a bit of a hobbyist... I had a lot of time growing up.” 

“Oh? What else do you do, in your free time?”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but he never got to. Niall’s door bursts open, his platinum blonde hair mussed, lips blood red, and grin wine-stained. 

“Humans!” he declares. Okay, he’s a little drunk. Niall leans against the door frame and studies Harry from head to toe. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Louis didn’t inform me we had to place another set of plates on the table.” 

Harry looked so positively mortified Louis wanted to laugh at him. He suppresses himself though and placed his hand at the small of Harry’s back. He patted him softly. “Don’t listen to him, Curly. He’s just messing with you.” 

“Mr. Horan?” Harry squeaks out. “Your Louis’s neighbor? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to barge into your evening.” 

Niall bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding, lad! Come in to my humble abode. Outside the university walls you can call me Niall. You’re graduating in a couple months, aren’t you? It’s time you eat at the big boys’ table.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re such a piece of shit. Hi, Hailee.” He lets go of Harry to approach Hailee, sitting on the iron dining table with a huge glass of red wine, smiling softly at Louis, all glorious dark brown mane and long legs.

Hailee wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulder tightly and squeezes, as Louis kisses her cheek. “You okay, darling?” she whispers. 

Louis pulls back and squeezes her hand back. “Same old, same old,” he says instead, with a shrug and an ironic smile. “Sit down, Harry.” 

“Ms. Steinfeld? You.. you’re Mr. Horan’s girlfriend?!” Harry exclaims, eyes wide. 

Hailee laughs as Niall settles down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “You were my student a few years ago, but I’m not very good at remembering names. Especially when I’m a little tipsy. Yes, I suppose, Mr. Horan is my boyfriend. A very recent but very joyful development in my life.”

“Wow.” Harry’s eyes were wide. “You don’t understand. I’m an avid faculty gossip follower. Shit, that’s a bad thing to say, isn’t it?” 

Louis decides to save him. “This is Harry Styles. My.. uhm, my new friend. I know him from the library.”

“Uh-huh,” Niall quips back, the biggest grin on his face. 

Louis placed a plate and utensils in front of Harry and squeezed his shoulder, pointing to the takeout boxes of chow mien and spring rolls. “Dig in, love.” 

Harry blushes and obeys. He’s just so fucking perfect, Louis doesn’t know what else to do. He wants him so bad, but he can’t possibly have him. Harry wouldn’t want Louis, not after he realizes all the shit that came with him.


	7. 7

FIFA turned out to be a video game, and Harry was terrible at it. It was more like he was jabbing buttons at the controller, instead of actually playing. His eyes weren’t fast enough to comprehend all the tiny people, and it turned out he was as shit in virtual soccer as he was in real life. He’s not that bothered though, when Louis thinks he’s so fucking hilarious.

Louis giggled again, covering his mouth with his hand. “No, love, you’re running the other way.”

_Love._

He’d be shit at all the video games in this life and the ones after it, if it meant Louis called him love. 

“I’m glad you came, Louis,” Niall chirps in. “You missed dinner for a couple of weeks.”

That put a wet blanket to Louis’s mood almost immediately. He shifts away from Harry on Niall’s bed, leaning forward to poke his toe into Niall’s arm where he and Hailee were sprawled on the rug. “Was just preoccupied, is all. You know,” Louis murmurs dismissively.

“Took little Harry here to convince you to come again, huh.” Niall was a beast at FIFA, as the game ends and proclaims his team the winner. Harry drops his controls petulantly and lies back down on the bed. He suddenly realized that Louis invited him into his neighbor’s apartment, and not his own. Curious.

“We just wanted to do something,” Louis replies simply, like Niall wasn’t fishing for anything at all.

Harry was being honest when he said he would like to be friends with Louis. Not just because it seemed to be the only thing Louis was comfortable with, but because he’s just _salivating_ to be with him in any way, to just get to know the man he’s been watching for literally years. Harry is drawn to him in ways he cannot explain, like moths to flame and societies to ruin. He _had_ to know. That’s all he’s asking for really, time with Louis, the chance to talk to him. And if that’s all he gets out of this, he can’t complain.

Wow, Louis smells really nice. Like baby powder, vanilla, and a hint of tobacco. Does he smoke? He would look so hot smoking. But that’s bloody unhealthy. You should wish he quit smoking.

“Why have you been preoccupied, then?” Harry asked casually. He’s not gonna lie. He is curious as to why Louis wanted nothing more than friendship, when he had said that Harry was adorable and impressive and caressed his cheek in a non-platonic way. He’s not over-analyzing, okay? The subtle touches mean everything to him! And also, maybe Louis had not yet moved on from that tall, scrawny ex of his? That’s a plausible reason. Shit, what if they’re back together? _He just went on a date with you last weekend, Harry._

Louis fidgets, combing his fringe away from his forehead slowly and not meeting Harry’s eyes. “It’s just... work, really. Dorothea’s on maternity leave, so I do all the work lately. Most nights I just go straight home and pass out right away.”

“You should always eat dinner even if you’re tired,” Harry protested, affronted at the thought of Louis skipping meals.

“You really should,” Hailee backed him up sleepily, almost nodding off where she’s pressed up and cuddled against Niall’s side.

“Yeah, yeah. Does Nesquik count?”

Niall and Louis then launch into a fired up argument about what merits to be real food. Harry’s too fascinated by Louis’s accent to listen to their debate points properly. Harry promises in his head to bring Louis dinner every night, except Monday evenings, until he invites him to his own apartment, at least.

Harry keeps his vow. Every late afternoon, after classes, he prepares Louis dinner, something simple like wraps or fajitas or pasta, or buys him something from the cafe, and waits for him to lock up the library. They ride home together on Louis’s motorcycle, or sometimes Harry brings his car to school and follows him back to his building. He liked it better when he doesn’t drive his car though, because Louis always offers him a ride back to his apartment after they eat, and who wouldn’t want the chance to ride with Louis? At first, they eat at Louis’s building rooftop, sometimes at the quad close to the library under the stars, sometimes when Harry doesn’t bring anything, they go to a restaurant (nothing fancy, just the casual ones that could no way be mistaken for a date, of course). It turned out Louis loved talking when he wasn’t anxious. He talked about politics back home in the UK, politics and racism here in the US, about a couple of children’s charities he tries to donate to as much as possible, his love of “footie,” his love of tea, his possible career as an interior designer that he didn’t choose, and his desire to be patient enough to write some sort of book one day. He’s not sure yet if he wants to write a murder mystery or a self-help non-fiction type of book (“those are really in, nowadays, you’ll be shocked”).

Harry eats all that information up. Louis is just hands down a great person, impossibly kind and pure and gentle. So perfect and bright, Harry wants to close his eyes.

It’s two weeks later of regular dinners that Louis finally invites him to eat at his own apartment.

“My place is quite shit actually,” Louis says apologetically, as he swipes his key card and invites Harry in. He turned on a switch on the wall and bit his lip, looking at Harry cautiously.

Harry looks around in utter amazement. It’s nothing like he imagined Louis’s space to be, but it’s the only way it could possibly look. It’s not large, but it looks more like a home than any room Harry every had. The studio is square with red carpeting and dark maroon paint. The curtains by the lone window were light beige and glittery, and yellow fairy lights hung around the four walls. The kitchen was a small counter with a simple sink, a mini fridge, and an electric kettle, and the bedroom was right beside it, with warm chocolate bedding and soft-looking purple silk pillows. Almost every single space on the floor was flooded with books. One corner had a vinyl player, beside a stack of records. The wall in front of the bed had a closet and a pile of shoes. It’s crowded and cozy but clean and Harry’s _in love_ with it. It smelled like Louis too, baby powder and vanilla with the tiniest hint of tobacco.

Harry plops down into the bed immediately, since there was no dining table, bouncing a little and grinning like a lunatic. “You used to smoke, didn’t you?”

Louis runs his fingers through his fringe, face a little embarrassed. “You a bloodhound or something? I did, especially during my college years. But my mom made me quit. This was my place too, back when I was still studying in uni. I smoked the shit out of my lungs those days. Even my clothes still smell a little like a cigarettes.”

“Oh, how long ago did you graduate?”

Louis tentatively sits down beside him on the bed, placing their takeout of lightweight salad on the floor. “Three years ago, give or take.”

Harry takes the takeout from the floor and starts setting their food on the bed between them. Louis was a grown man with a stable job, but he was still in his old uni apartment with no stove or dining table, surrounded by his beloved books and the cutest fairy lights and vanilla. Harry finds it endlessly endearing. “But why are you British?”

Louis laughs at him like he always does, like everything Harry says is just so ridiculous. Harry’s still unsure if that’s a good or bad thing. “You’re asking a lot of questions today. How about you? Why are you American?”

“I guess... I was born in America?”

Louis shakes his head, crinkles by his blue, blue, blue eyes. The warm light of the room make his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks. Harry truly hasn’t encountered a sweeter, more beautiful creature. He looked like somebody he could love forever. “But tell me about you, then. Got any sisters or brothers?”

“Not that I know of.” Harry laughs dryly. “I genuinely, seriously can’t be sure if I do.”

The amusement fades from Louis’s eyes as he chews thoughtfully on his alfalfa sprouts. “Why?” he asks quietly.

Harry fixes the curls behind his ear, spreading the Caesar dressing on his salad with one hand offhandedly. “It’s not some sob story or anything. My parents are sort of separated? But they’re still married. I don’t know for sure... Some people say my father has another family.”

“What?” Louis looks troubled now. Harry would do anything to bring back that gorgeous sexy smile on his face. Is it okay for Harry to share this kind of heavy stuff on a Week 3 Non-Date? He had no experience to look back on. “Does your mom know?”

Harry frowns. “I don’t know. I don’t have much of a relationship with either of them, to be honest.”

“But... why?”

“I can’t talk about this, Lou. Sorry.”

Louis purses his lips, but decides to drop the subject. “Well, what made you take physics as a major, then? You’re some genius, graduating early and all that. Congrats, by the way.”

Harry smiles faintly. “Thanks. I’m going to med school the next year.”

“Oh, you’re gonna be some fancy doctor, then. That’s amazing. Things looking up and all that?”

Harry can’t handle all these personal questions, damn it. He wants to know Louis so bad, but he realizes he may not want Louis to know everything about him after all. “Yeah,” he says instead.

Louis raises his eyebrow at him, but doesn’t ask more. They eat the rest of their dinner in silence. Harry was the one to ask for dinners with Louis, and here he was screwing up a _non-date_. Louis takes their empty containers and takes two cans of beer from the fridge. He squeezes Harry’s hand as he hands it to him. They lean back on the iron-cast headboard, opening their beers and taking sips. Harry looks around at the fairy lights, this dream of a room beside the dreamiest boy in the world. He should be the happiest he could be.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about that stuff if you don’t want to.”

“How many exes have you had?” Harry asks suddenly instead. No better topic change than that, although he knows he won’t be glad once the question bounces back to him.

“Hmm,” Louis hums. “Just one, actually. We were together four years before we broke up.”

It could only be that Nick who left him. But remembering how Louis was that day, he didn’t want to bring it up. “I never had a relationship.”

“What?” Louis gapes.

Harry laughs faux lightly. He realizes he’s not ashamed of it, though. “I’ve never kissed a boy.”

“ _What?”_ Louis seems to be thoroughly offended now. “But... how? Harry, you’re fucking perfect.”

Harry’s cheeks heat up at that. He plays with the tab of his beer can, trying to seem nonchalant. _Here we go_. “You tell me, Lou. You didn’t want us to be a thing, either.”

Louis groans, banging his head into the iron railings. “It’s not about you, Harry. I already told you.”

“Kiss me, then,” Harry declares. He seems to be able to hear both his heaving breaths and beating heart. Oh my god, he was such an idiot. He braces himself for Louis’s rejection.

But Louis was only looking at him with wide eyes, lips parted, chest heaving too. Harry can’t believe he finally made Louis blush.

“It can be just, you know...” he clears his throat and speaks in a fake British accent, “Laddy lads doing lad things!”

“Uh-huh...”

Harry sits frozen as Louis’s eyes fixate on him. On his eyes, his cheeks, then his lips. Is this it? Will Louis Tomlinson be his first kiss?

But Louis looks down at his own lap instead, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, as if he can’t look at Harry any longer. “I...” he inhales a huge breath. “I don’t think I can do this, Harry.”

Harry exhales. He didn’t expect Louis to kiss him, but at the same time, he kind of did. Louis looked like he would kill to kiss him, too. Harry’s a little shocked and ashamed, when he starts to feel his eyes start to smart with tears. He blinks rapidly to keep them at bay, averting his face to the wall and sniffing as quietly as he could.

“Harry?” Louis asks, voice tormented. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Harry. I’m sorry. Harry.”

_This is so embarrassing. I’m never showing Louis my face again._

Harry laughs wetly, trying to shrug this whole fiasco off. Graduating early, yet he’s still a bumbling idiot. He clutches his beer close to chest, willing the tears to _not fall please. “_ I knew you’d say no.”

Louis pries his hand away from his beer and squeezes it tight, close to his chest. He sounded so distressed. “I don’t want to hurt you, Harry. Trust me. You don’t want to be with me. I love hanging out with you. I love getting to know you. But it can’t be more than that with me. We can’t be friends if you don’t understand that.”

“Can I just say this isn’t personal too?” Harry supposes a lie or two won’t hurt at this point. He still can’t look Louis in the eye though, so he speaks his confessions to the wall. “It’s just that... nobody seems to want me, is all. Am I that repulsive?” But as he speaks it, he realizes he does think that, at the darkest corners of his mind.

“Harry, look at me,” Louis says, determined now. “Please look at me, love.”

Harry can’t deny that. Hoping he keeps a straight face now, he looks back at Louis, mouth turned down at the corners. “I’m such an idiot.”

Louis keeps clutching his hand on his, while his other hand goes to caress Harry’s cheek like he did before. “Harry, you are so sweet and quirky and warm and so fucking sexy. Of course the whole world wants you. Don’t ever doubt it.”

“But I don’t care about the whole world.” Harry closes his eyes and nuzzles into Louis’s touch. If only he can stay here forever. _I only care about you_. But he doesn’t say it, afraid of digging his grave any deeper. 

Louis sighs deeply. “Tell me, then. How many boys have broken your heart? I’ll beat them all up.” 

“They’d crush you.” 

Louis’s thumb rubs at the corner of his eye, where a stray tear must have been. “I’ll take my chances. Hush your crying now. You are so fucking young, with everything ahead of you. There’s nothing to cry about just yet.” 

Harry sniffs and opens his eyes, adjusting himself to rest his head on Louis’ shoulder. “You talk like you’re fifty years old.” 

Louis laughs softly, running his hand through Harry’s curls, untangling knots and scratching his scalp lightly as he goes. It feels unbelievably comforting. “Feels like it sometimes,” he murmurs. 

“I have a cousin I love. Gemma,” he admits quietly, after a few minutes of drowsy silence. “She lived close to us, and we used to play together all the time. She’s married now.”

“I’m sure she’s lovely.”

“She is,” Harry whispers back.

Everything felt so warm and fuzzy suddenly, with Louis’s arms around him and the evenness of his breathing on his ear. It felt like the loving, all-encompassing hug he never had. He lowers himself further to rest his head on Louis’s chest, and he vaguely feels Louis catching his beer before it spills as he sinks into sleep.

Harry wakes up again in the middle of the night. He’s alone in Louis’s bed, the lights were still a warm amber above him, and there was a chill in the air. He looks around to find Louis standing by the open window, arms wrapped around his chest as he looks outside, nothing but a shadow against the moonlight and the chilling breeze.

“Lou?” he calls softly.

Louis turns around and smiles softly at him. “Go back to sleep, Haz. It’s fine.”

Haz. Harry’s skin is tingling just from the nickname. “Come sleep beside me.”

Louis turns off the overhead lights. Harry thinks he hears Louis take a deep breath as he sits beside him on the bed and tells him to scoot over. They lie facing each other in the dark, illuminated by nothing but the starlight and the electricity singing between them. Harry moves his hand beside Louis’, stroking the back of it with his little finger. “I’m sorry for being such a drama queen,” he whispers.

Louis surprises him by clutching his hand to his. “Not a drama queen at all, love.”

“Louis?”

“Hmm?”

“I haven’t seen my parents in three years,” Harry admits, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to meet the piercing blue of Louis’s. The darkness made him feel that his laundry wasn’t too painful to air out. “I go home all the time. But they’re never there. I don’t know why.”

Louis stiffens and he moves his arm to wrap it around Harry’s shoulders. He rubs soothingly. “That’s very shitty of them. Do you try to reach out?”

Harry sighs deeply. “Reaching out is all I do, all the time. I’m just tired.”

He can feel Louis fidgeting and shaking his head. “I can’t believe they’d do that to you.”

“It’s not like I have anything to complain about, right? They give me everything I could ever want.”

“That doesn’t excuse them at all.”

“I never got a hug from my mom or dad, either. At least, not that I can remember. Is that such a childish thing to ask for?”

Louis makes an affronted noise. “Never, Harry. What the fuck.”

Harry just pouts. He was such an abomination, he knew. Everybody had parents during Parents’ Day at his various schools. Everyone had stories to tell about Christmas morning and summer holidays and Easter and lunches and dinners. Everyone brought their parents to the recitals at camp or to the track races or to watch them perform at church choir. _Harry didn’t even know if they were Catholic_. He can’t for the life of him remember the last time they were together, all three of them, or when he texted his mother in more than one-word replies or three-word sentences as answers to questions about his honors standing or _potential girlfriends._ He doesn’t even know if Dick Styles’s number in his phone is his most recent one.

“It’s so silly to miss parents you never knew at all, right? It’s silly to miss parents when I’m like... 21, basically an adult.”

“That’s not silly at all, Harry. I miss my mother all the time.”

Harry opens his eyes and is devastated to find Louis looking back at him, eyes impassioned and angry, his lips down turned in upset severely.

“Does she live far away?”

Louis purses his lips together, seeming to consider his answer, his eyes looking impossibly more pained. “She’s dead.”

Harry freezes in shock. He surges forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around Louis’s torso and burrowing his face into his neck. “I’m so sorry, Lou. Fuck. And here I am talking about my stupid mommy-daddy issues... I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m so sorry.”

Louis didn’t move in the embrace of his arms, but slowly and surely, he did, tightening his grasp around Harry’s shoulders, holding him close as if _he_ was the one that needed comforting. “Those aren’t just any silly issues, though, Haz. Do you understand that they... they basically neglected you your whole life?”

“But I don’t have a right to complain at all. It’s not like I cry about it on a daily basis,” Harry protested. His problems, his pain, his loneliness couldn’t possibly compare to Louis’s. “It’s fine, really.” He gives a little shrug.

“Nothing’s fine about anything you’ve told me.”

“Nothing’s fine about anything _you_ ’ve told _me_.”

“Shhh,” Louis shushes him instead. His hands start a soothing rhythm on his curls, running his fingers through them comfortingly. “Go to sleep. Don’t you have an 8 am class tomorrow morning? I have to go to work a bit earlier too. Let’s talk about this some other time.”

“But...”

“Everything’s going to be okay, Haz. We’ll be alright.”

Louis didn’t seem keen on continuing the somber conversation anymore. So Harry gives a small nod and drifts off to sleep once more.


	8. 8

Louis, for the life of him, couldn’t remember why he wanted to stay away from Harry Styles. He struggles to reiterate his rationale in his mind, as he clutches Harry close to his chest, the scent of his musky, vanilla shampoo pervading his senses, the little snuffs he makes as he snores blowing lightly against Louis’s neck. Faint yellow sunlight was starting to seep from the open windowpane, and the digital clock at his nightstand read 6:50 am. He barely had four hours of sleep, yet he had never felt so alive and awake in his life.

Harry wasn’t some bored, happy-go-luck kid after all. He was this amalgamation of independence and imagination and strength, so put together but on the brink of falling apart, wise beyond his years but still just a child who never got the chance to grow up. Louis’s heart ached for him. He didn’t know what was worse, to have basked in a mother’s love and lost it or to never have had it at all. He wanted to curse everybody who dared hurt this boy, this boy who he had known for years, had talked to earnestly for a mere two weeks and a weekend, but had taken a hold of his entire being. Louis hadn’t felt this protective since his Cabbage Patch kid was attacked by his childhood apartment’s neighbor’s labradoodle.

He could feel Harry’s heart beating against his skin, can feel it under his fingertips. He didn’t deserve this boy. He could only mess him up further. Harry didn’t need a first love who was fucked in the head and had anxiety about dates and strangers and social situations and had panic attacks over nightmares and life going well. Louis couldn’t deny it. Pain had been given a gateway to his life ever since Rainy’s death. Once he started grieving, he couldn’t stop, and though as a child he was an insomniac and a recluse, nobody had warned him that he would get depressed and anxious as an adult. He had gone to therapy and drank the appropriate drugs to help him, and for a while, it had helped. He lost contact with his friends during that period, too lost in his grief and loss. But he still had Niall and Nick as his support system, and he felt like he could go on living after all. But Nick had left, and he had stopped going to therapy because it was successful during that time, and he never went back.

He felt okay, is the thing. Most times, everything is manageable. Just as long as he sticks to his routine and to Niall and to everything that was comfortable. It had only been barely more than half a year since Nick left, and he honestly felt fine. But it was a long six months, the hardest of his life, painful and alone and isolated, with nobody who really understood the gravity of his struggles. His struggles with his unceasing grief, the betrayal he felt with the breakup, the lack of trust with the world and the people around him and everything going well, his loneliness that was like an ache in the very core of his soul, his lack of interest in everything that he used to love—the library, romantic comedies, books, his Tumblr blog of bad jokes, video games, skateboarding, going out and dancing, having sex with boys. There was this undeniable emptiness inside him, like he was changed by everything that happened to him, taken apart and put back together to resemble a human named Louis Tomlinson in all the wrong ways. If he drank to oblivion alone at the bar a few blocks from the university, stumbled home with two left feet, and cried himself to sleep some nights, nobody had to know. _Great, now he’s an alcoholic too._

If he thinks about ending everything on a daily basis, nobody had to know either. 

That’s why he can’t be with Harry. Harry deserves someone who was  _normal_ and  _happy_ and  _whole_ . Harry didn’t need a wreck in his life. Louis had to let go of him. Even if it would only rip him apart further.  Harry was all his wildest dreams combined, strong and gorgeous and impossibly kind. He didn’t need anybody ruining his life for him, too. 

7:00 AM. He had to move now, if they want to make it in time to the day’s obligations. Louis starts to gently rub circles on Harry’s back, coaxing him awake. “Love, it’s time to wake up if you want to change your clothes before class.” 

Harry makes a little horse-neighing sound in response, and Louis can’t help but smile fondly at him. He can’t even make himself blink, knowing he can’t miss a moment of this morning. He knew he can’t make it happen again. He physically  _can’t_ . He would combust. 

“Harry.” Louis starts shaking him now. 

“Mmmm.” Harry only murmurs contentedly, snuggling to Louis even tighter, hooking his knee between Louis’s thighs, their hips aligning. 

_Oh, dear god, I can’t handle this_ . 

In a sudden panic, Louis untangles Harry’s arms around him, getting off the bed abruptly. That wakes Harry up, sitting upright suddenly and blinking like the soft dawn hurt his retinas. He wets his bottom lip with his tongue and smiles up at Louis angelically. “We slept together.” 

That calms down Louis significantly, enough that he gives a sardonic smirk. “Don’t be silly.” He turns around and grabs his towel from a nearby hook. “I’m taking a shower, love. See you later for dinner?” 

Fuck. He asked Harry to hang out with him again, just five minutes after thinking that he should indefinitely keep his distance. He can’t do anything right. 

Harry’s nose scrunches up in visible delight, eyes alight with glee. “Never expect otherwise ever again,  _love_ .” He says “love” with a poor British accent. 

Louis mockingly huffs out an exasperated sigh as he closes the bathroom door behind him, Harry’s beautiful laughter still echoing in his ears. Even as his heart starts to leap at what Harry’s words unashamedly implies.

Louis had a bad feeling the moment Niall made a group chat comprising of him, Harry, and Hailee. Niall invited them all to go out, dance  _at a fucking bar,_ and  _get fucking sloshed_ the next week’s Friday night. _It’s a Friday, after all, bro._ Louis hadn’t been to a club in literally years. What does one even do in places like that again? Louis was worried he won’t even be able to know what to do with his hands. At least he had enough time to weasel his way out of that. But Harry was ecstatic as expected, asking if he could invite his friend Liam to come with them, to which of course, Niall responded to with equivocal enthusiasm. Great, his best fried Liam. Extremely close, probably good-looking Liam. Niall said they were like brothers, okay? 

He still had this peaceful Thursday night with Harry, though. And he could always skip club night. Maybe Harry will just barge into his room that fearful Friday night, all drunk and cuddly, and he could wake up next to him again. But Louis swears that morning is the last morning he wakes up next to Harry. Sleeping together while not sleeping together just gives off the wrong message, and the last thing he wanted was to lead Harry on. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Harry. 

So, no. He cannot want him. He cannot desire him. He had to stop looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars. He did, but he had to stop acknowledging it. Harry deserved only the best in the world. 

Caramel Screecher was back, close to lunch time, and he had the auspicious Mr. Malik in tow. Louis always liked it when Zayn Malik visited the library. He was always on time, always polite with a little smirk on his face, and always borrowing the occasional manga new arrivals. Louis always tried to correctly guess Zayn’s hair color under his gray beanie. It changes every two weeks for the past year and a half since he started his Master’s in Brighton, and Louis had been correct for a total of seven times. 

_Sky blue_ . Louis eyes’ widened as Zayn takes off his beanie. Wow, eight times correct now, after a months-long dry spell. Louis can only take that as a good sign. 

“Good morning, Ms. Jones, Mr. Malik,” he greets them cordially. 

“Hi, Mr. Tomlinson,” Zayn replies just as predictably politely. “Scarlet here is making me return these papers for her.” He pushes a bunch of bound theses towards Louis’s direction under the glass’ slot. 

Scarlet Jones huffs. “I’m not making you do anything, Zayn. You kept them for  _weeks_ .” 

Louis presses his lips together to avoid laughing as he takes the theses and scans them. “Don’t worry, Zayn. Your actually due to give them back tomorrow. In record time.” 

“I know,” Zayn says with an almost smug shrug and a nudge at Scarlet. “Not my fault I beat you to them, Scar.” 

“Whatever. I’d like to check them out now, Mr. Tomlinson.” Caramel rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, but there was a blush high on her cheeks. Ah, so she’s not immune to Mr. Malik’s charms, after all. 

While Louis changes the book’s borrower record on the library’s computer, he sees Harry sneak into his reading nook out of the corner of his eye, almost comically tiptoeing, a stack of textbooks held in his palm. How big is this boy’s hand? Louis tries not to think about that any further. Harry plops down into the armchair, puts his bag between his feet, and starts to find his place in his book. He looks up and meets Louis’s eyes, gives a happy wave with a dopiest grin on his face. Louis smiles and waves back. Who can  _not_ wave back at that adorable, sweet creature? 

Zayn and Scarlet look back to see who Louis greeted and seeing it was nobody of their concern, turned back around to wait for their books. As Zayn asked about any new additions to the tiny manga and comic collections the library had, Harry seemed to recognize the two of them and ducked his head as quickly as possible, even going as far as hiding his face behind his book. The tips of his ears seemed flaming red. Oh, Louis can’t wait to hear the story behind this. 

It was almost the lunch break as they leave, with a polite farewell from Zayn and another huff from Scarlet. Louis encodes a few more records into the database until the clock strikes exactly 12. Harry saunters over at the exact time Louis starts to collect his things, fidgety and biting his lip as usual. 

Louis closes the entrance to the desk and walks toward the exit. “Spill, Harry.”

Harry stumbles to follow him, tightly holding his books to his chest like it would protect him from the onslaught of Louis’s curiosity. “What? What do you mean?” 

“Did milk come out of your nose as you laughed in front of them or summat? Is that why you’re so embarrassed?” 

“That’s not it!” Harry truly does try to act cool. Louis could see it in his face, as they strolled toward the little food court across campus. Louis takes Harry’s books and holds it for him, smirking a little. 

“Did they ask you to participate in a threesome?” 

“Louis, no! Why would you think that?” 

“I think you could be really kinky, once you’ve tried stuff.” 

“Louuu...” Harry whines and covers his face with his palms, shaking his head coyly.

“Well, what is it?”

Harry stops abruptly. They’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk leading to buildings across from the library’s, and the students rushing around them parted like the Red Sea as they paused. 

“You _have_ to promise not to tell anybody. Swear it!” 

“Relax, love. I’ve got no friends, anyway. And Niall won’t hear of this, I assure you.” 

Harry frowned at that, but plowed on. “I was in love with Zayn Malik.” 

A shocked laugh comes out of Louis’s lips. As well as his nose, really, as he snorts in utterly shocked amazement. “In love? Like, seriously?” 

Harry takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together, briskly walking toward the food court again. Louis laughs softly again as he keeps up. “At least, I thought... I thought I was.” 

“When was this? How did you even know him? He’s studying for his Master’s now.” 

“It was in music camp... I used to play piano for him when he practiced vocals... And I really thought I loved him! And I made a move on him and I told him... I told him we belonged together. But he said he had a girlfriend back home.” 

Harry seemed genuinely hurt with this and this dimmed Louis’s amusement. He takes Harry’s hand and rubs his thumb over his knuckles. He can hear Harry’s breath catch. “How long ago was this?” 

“I think, I was ten?” 

They fall in line for the sandwich kiosk. Louis lets go of Harry’s hand, but Harry takes it again, holding on so tight he could cut blood circulation. 

“I was devastated, Lou. I thought him the love of my life. I never asked a boy out ever again,” Harry admits quietly with a pout. 

“Mr. Malik was your gay awakening, then,” Louis says in conclusion. 

Harry sputters for a minute or two. “I guess... I guess that’s true. He’s perfect.” 

Louis hums noncommittally. “He may not have a girlfriend or boyfriend now. Maybe you should ask him out.” 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow intensely. His full, pink lips turned down into what could only be a pained grimace. “What...what do you mean? Why would I ask Zayn out at this point?” 

_At what point?_ Louis wanted to ask, but not. He couldn’t. He could feel a lump in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Bitter pills to swallow. He pries his hand away from Harry’s, crosses his arms so he can’t take it again. They don’t say much else for the rest of the lunch. 

  
  


Harry was starting to crawl under his skin. He was like one of those sad kittens you picked up off the street because you were too scared it would get hit by a car, and you foster it for a while until you find it a better home. But then _it_ becomes a _he_ , and suddenly the kitten was cuddling up to you as you watched shit TV, nuzzling against your neck, begging to be petted, purring and smelling divine. And if you tell him to scoot back a bit, his doll green eyes would get even bigger in hurt abandonment and you feel even worse, so you just cuddle him closer. Then suddenly, you realize you didn’t want to give the kitten away to a better home, because you fucking loved the little baby, and you want to keep him, _damn it_.

Louis couldn’t help but feel warm all over as Harry’s arms wrap around his middle, so tight Harry’s hands were nearly holding on to his own elbows. _The Holiday_ was playing on the TV in front of them, and they had just finished eating Margherita pizza. He felt a distinct sleepiness in his bones, total exhaustion from working the whole Sunday at the library, hauling book donations, sorting through them, and labeling them, and it wasn’t helping the fuzziness he felt buzzing in his brain. His eyes were half-closed and Harry’s feet were icy on top of his own, but he didn’t mind. He never felt more content in his whole life. He just wanted to keep Harry, that’s all.

But he couldn’t. This should be the last time Harry comes over and stays the night. He had been telling himself that the last couple of nights Harry stayed over.

They never do anything wild. Sometimes Harry brings lab sheets and homework with him, some books to highlight for his thesis and Louis would hang around and scroll through his phone or reads a few pages in the current books he was reading, waiting for him to be done. Then Harry would tuck his papers to his leather bag, and they would cuddle (friends cuddle, right?) while they caught up on some _Grey’s Anatomy_ or _Modern Family_ or _Friends._ Harry had watched all the episodes before. He revealed he doesn’t like watching new shows or movies so much, because he felt safer if he knew how they ended. Louis wanted to give him a big hug after that. He did. They would eat dinner as they watched, laughing or crying with the show, and then fall asleep. Harry even had his green juice powder in Louis’s cupboard for him to drink the next day and his own cupboard filled with his own clothes. Travel-sized bottles of his skincare littered the bathroom sink, but it doesn’t mean anything certainly. Harry brought a snake plant, placed it by the windowsill and watered it occasionally. Even named the thing Marsha, but that doesn’t have to mean anything at all. Friends do that. 

He couldn’t help but wonder why it was so hard for him to resist and finally push Harry away. He always had a crush on him, that was undeniable. But Harry was more than just his perfect curly hair or his killer jawline or his cherubim dimples. He was his brilliant mind and his gentle soul and his golden heart. It wasn’t just his body warmth next to him, making him feel less alone, distracting him from loneliness, making him feel more  _human_ ... It was just Harry himself. He wouldn’t know what to do when he had to let him go. 

Harry would get bored of this eventually. And even if he didn’t, bless his kindhearted soul, he would graduate and move back to Manhattan and inevitably lose interest with keeping contact with him. Just like everybody in his life. Louis would always be thankful for this, the handful of weeks where he got to taste what happiness was like with Harry, even if it wasn’t something he would get to taste ever again.

Maybe he should adopt a kitten. 

“Lou.” Harry was shaking him awake. He didn’t realize he had dozed off. “I wanted to show you something.” 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep, love,” Louis murmurs, sitting up. 

Harry sits up with him, rubbing his thumb across Louis’s temple with a sweet smile on his face. “I know you’re tired. But I’m just so excited to show you!” 

Louis chuckles at the way Harry was almost bouncing in the twin-sized mattress. Harry untangles himself and goes to his bag, retrieving a vinyl record. “I heard it playing at the record store, and I just had to get it!” Almost shyly, he slips the vinyl out of its sleeve and carefully places it on the player. He reads the song list at the back and places the needle on the right groove. 

The crisp voice of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan resonates from the record player, and Louis’s heart skips a beat in his chest. 

Harry grins mischievously, as he takes Louis’s hand and makes him stand up from the bed. He settles Louis’s hands on his shoulders and his own hands on Louis’s waist. They sway slowly to the soft piano, side to side, right there in the narrow space between the bed and the kitchen, Harry softly singing the lyrics back to him, “I’ll never be free from your smile so tender... the sweet surrender in your eyes...” 

Louis closes his eyes at the image in front of him, at Harry resting his forehead on his, murmuring the song’s sweet nothings like he meant it just for him, the piano and the trumpets making him feel like this could be his life, in another universe, where fate was gentler, where hearts were never broken, and he could just have _this_. A dance around this small square room, with the arms of the boy he loved around him, where he felt safe and happy and _whole_. God, what he wouldn’t give to feel like this forever. What he wouldn’t give to get to keep Harry forever. 

_Just a chain bound to my heart, your love remains when we’re apart.._

He didn’t realize he was shaking, until Harry’s arms tightened around him, pulling him even closer to his chest, his thumb rubbing gently at the nape of his neck. 

“I think we deserve to be happy,” Harry whispers faintly, almost afraid. “Don’t you?” 

Louis just shrugs helplessly. He didn’t know at all. 

Another song started playing, but it sounded muffled to Louis’s ears. They kept dancing though, until that song ended too and Harry took his face in his hands and looked him in the eye. His emerald eyes were fierce and determined, but defeated and lost too. 

“I just want to make you happy, Lou.” He says it like a promise, and his eyes flutter shut when Louis didn’t say anything back. “I can sense that you’re not... okay. But that’s okay with me, you know? We can figure this out together.” 

_But you shouldn’t have to figure anything out,_ Louis finds himself thinking angrily. He realizes he was furious, raging at the unfairness of the world. Why did he have to meet Harry at all, only to lose him? What did he do in his past life to just get disappointed by life over and over and over again? 

“I like you a lot,” Harry continues. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, green fires alight, alighting Louis’s very being. “I love you.” 

_You don’t mean that_ .  _Are you so broken you have to fix other people, Harry?_

They have stopped swaying now, though the soft soul music continued around them. Just two boys holding on to each other in the middle of the room. Two humans waiting for ships to bring them ashore, for anchors to keep them from drifting away forever.

“You don’t mean that, Harry,” Louis says instead, lost for words, lost, lost, lost. This is what you get for trying to be happy, Louis. This is what you get for getting drawn to Harry’s fire like moths to a flame. Now, you’re burning him down with you. 

“But I do!” Harry shoots back almost desperately. He slides his palms up Louis’ side until they settle on his neck, warm and gentle. “Let me prove it to you.”

Then Harry surges forward and Louis could only gasp softly as Harry’s lips meet his own, aggressively at first, like he was shocked at what he had just done too. Then suddenly his kisses were tender and soft and hesitant. And this was  _Harry_ , and Louis couldn’t breathe, and a kiss was something he hadn’t felt in months. Harry’s kisses felt like molasses, slow and sensual and sweet, sparkling with possibility. And Louis was merely human. He whines softly as Harry’s tongue brushes his bottom lip, and breathless and weak in the knees, he opens his mouth, allowing entrance. He had to push him away; he fucking  _had_ to. But Harry was holding on to him, and he kissed like it wasn’t his first, like his air was coming from Louis alone, his heartbeats syncopated with his. Louis never felt so vulnerable in his life. Every fiber of his being was singing, his nerves a wreck. He could feel his hands getting cold, but he tightened his hold on Harry’s shirt instead. It felt like he had nothing else to hold on to. 

It was forever or ten minutes—it was all relative to Louis. But Harry finally pulls away. They breathe deeply into each other’s open mouths, and Harry was grinning, the cheeky bastard. 

“Was that okay?” he asked, albeit a little worriedly. His hands caress Louis’s face, looking for any sign of distress. 

But Louis could only nod as he closes his eyes and nuzzles into Harry’s touch, a stray tear falling down the corner of his eye. He was so tired of fighting, so tired of his life.

“Baby,” Harry gasps. He hugs Louis tight, rocking him back and forth. “We’ll be alright. You said, remember? Don’t cry.” 

Louis tightens his hold on Harry. He’d savor this moment while he still could.


	9. 9

Harry is awakened by a hard slap to his face. He opens his eyes blearily, blinking against the soft early morning night. The clock on Louis’s nightstand indicated 5:45 am. He was about to fall back asleep and snuggle next to Louis, when he realizes Louis was the one who hit his face in his sleep.

“Lou?” Harry whispers, alarmed, trying to shake Louis awake. Louis was almost _convulsing_ in his sleep, his face scrunched in pain, his hands clenched into the duvet like they were desperate for purchase. Tiny gasps of breath escapes his parted lips, like he was getting suffocated. “Lou, wake up!”

Louis’s eyes finally fly open, and his breaths deepen suddenly, hyperventilating. Tears spring to his eyes, and he claws at his neck.

“It’s just a nightmare, Lou. It was just a nightmare,” Harry repeats frantically, as he embraces Louis tightly to his chest. Louis seems to realize what was happening as his body uncoils and relaxes into Harry’s. He buries his face into Harry’s neck and suddenly cries in choked sobs. “I’m right here. I’m sorry. It’s going to be okay.”

Harry holds Louis as he sobs, rubbing gentle circles into his back. Did Louis get nightmares often? Who held him and brought him back down all this time when he was at this state? His crying was breaking Harry’s heart.

Louis calmed down after about half an hour though, until his breaths were back to normal and he reciprocated Harry’s hug, wrapping his arms around his middle tightly. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Harry’s chest.

Harry caresses the soft hair at the nape of Louis’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for ever, Lou. Do you want to talk about it?”

Louis clears his throat, retrieving one hand to play with the collar of Harry’s shirt. “Same old, same old. Cold. Drowning in an ocean, with a storm raging above me... Just choking on water. It’s so cold, Haz... I keep wanting it to end, for the ocean to just take me already, to fucking drown already... But I’m just stuck there, in the middle of the storm, shivering and choking... It hurts so bad; it physically hurts...” Louis shuts his eyes and shivers at the memory of his nightmare.

Harry frowns, his eyes starting to sting as well. He takes the blanket they had kicked away during the commotion and wraps it around Louis’ shoulders.

“I just want it to be over,” Louis whispers, almost mindlessly. Harry couldn’t be sure if he meant the dream or something else entirely. His hold around Louis tightens.

“How often do you dream this?” he asks, already dreading the answer.

Louis gives a small shrug. “Dunno. Twice or thrice a week before? I haven’t in a while.”

Harry hated it when Louis was like this. It hurt that sometimes Louis had a distant look in his eye, like he was trapped somewhere else or inside his head, maybe remembering. Maybe overthinking. That sometimes Louis had days when he was in a mood, withdrawing into himself, not looking outwardly lonely or anything, just utterly empty. It contrasted so much when he had his good days, when he was laughing and teasing, when he was fascinated with discussions of American politics or the latest movies at the cinema or the new books at the library. It hurt that he wasn’t always _Louis,_ just happy, carefree like spring breezes, blinding like sunshine. But Harry knew that the clouds that came over him were okay, too, a part of his being, a part of his life. He really just couldn’t bear to see his Lou in pain.

He could say that, right? _His Lou_.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could take your nightmare away.”

“Don’t be silly. That’s impossible.” Louis chuckles faintly, then continues, “You do, though. The nights you stayed here I didn’t have the nightmares at all. That’s more reprieve than I could ask for.”

“I wish I could kiss everything better,” Harry whispers.

Louis shakes his head forlornly. “You know not everything could be solved by a happily ever after, right?”

Harry gasps dramatically. “ _No??_ Is that a published aphorism somewhere? Was that a Nietzsche quote?”

“Fucking shut up, it’s too early in the morning for this.”

But Harry could tell Louis did smile at his stupid attempt to lighten the mood, and Harry grins into Louis’ soft hair, glad he got him to smile at least.

  
  


Harry was determined to get Louis to love him back. He knew it may be a futile attempt. He thought that every time he waved goodbye to his classmates as they walked to the food court and he proceeded to the library to get lunch with Louis. He thought that as he studied at his reading nook and low-key stares a hole into Louis’s face. He thinks it as they cuddle to watch TV and share a chocolate milkshake and peck each other on the lips goodnight. He thinks it when he meets Louis after he locks up the library, and they maybe end up making out at the back beside the motorcycle before they take off for Louis’s apartment.

Certainly, almost one-hundred-percent, all the kissing is a good sign of Louis possibly loving him back. Louis seemed to like him a decent amount, comfortable enough to share his secrets and let him sleep over. That had to totally count for something, right? Louis lets him pick the shows to watch and allows him to get him salads and avocado sandwiches for dinner instead of his usual fast-food. That meant Louis cared for him at least a bit, probably. It would only take a bit of a nudge for Louis to love him back, Harry was sure.

Maybe Harry had to seduce him. Maybe Harry was a minx in bed (he had no way of making sure, though)— _that_ could be what pushes Louis off the edge.

Those thoughts run through Harry’s head as he clutches desperately at Louis’s hips and they kiss frantically in Louis’s bed. A _Friends_ episode was playing in front of them, but Harry couldn’t be bothered to watch. _The One with Ross’ Wedding_. Harry could only take that as a good sign. Louis grinds his hips down on Harry’s, their clothed cocks sliding together obscenely, and Harry felt like he was losing his mind. He groans deeply and clutches Louis, rolling them so he was on top. They were humping each other like teenagers, their breaths almost visible in the chilly spring air, and Harry breaks the kiss, nipping and biting his way down Louis’s chin, to his jaw, to his neck, leaving angry red marks as he goes. 

“Haz, are you sure you’re a virgin?” Louis gasps helplessly. His hands trail down Harry’s back to his ass. “You’re killing me.” 

“Lou...” Harry trails off, almost whines pitifully, between bites to Louis’s exposed collarbone. He closes his eyes, decides to be brave, and braces himself for Louis’s reaction. “Maybe you should fuck me.” 

Louis sputters in utter shock, but he doesn’t get to reply because Niall suddenly bursts in the door  _and_ sputters in shock too. Harry untangles himself from Louis sheepishly, his face beet red, as Louis sits up with wide eyes. 

“What the...? What in the...?” Niall could only ask incoherently. They have rendered the tenured professor incoherent. He glances between Louis and Harry for a second, at Harry’s messed up curls, at Louis adjusting himself in his jeans, and suddenly grins maliciously. “Louis, you’ve been holding back from me!” 

“What are you doing here, Niall?” Louis asks exasperatedly, fixing his fringe.

“I’ve been texting you guys for ages! It’s Friday club night, remember?!”

“Fucking hell.” Louis lies back down on his back and covers his eyes with his arm. That seemed to be the end of the conversation for him.

Niall looks at Harry questioningly, and Harry could only shrug. He definitely forgot it was the day they were all supposed to go out. He’s sure Liam’s already on an Uber on the way to the club though, punctual and responsible even in getting totally trashed.

Niall grins madly at both of them, then retreats. “We leave in an hour! Put on something decent.”

“I don’t want to go,” Louis groans. “I hate going out. I haven’t gone out _in ages_.”

“Aw, maybe it’ll be fun! I haven’t gone out in ages, either.”

“You go, then.”

“I don’t mind not going!” Harry truly didn’t mind anything at all. As long as Louis was with him. “We can continue what we were doing a while ago.”

Seemingly remembering what had him sputtering in shock, Louis bolts upright with a sudden burst of energy, hurrying to his dresser and rifling through his clothes. “You know what? You’re right. Maybe we need a change of pace. No harm in _not_ re-watching shows for a night, right?”

“Um...” Now, Harry was torn. Was Louis tempted to... make love to him? Or was he totally abhorred by the idea? But Louis only seemed on edge, throwing sweaters and shirts haphazardly to the floor, his electric blue eyes shifty and chestnut hair disheveled, looking like a disgruntled cat caught in a trap. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to? We can hang out here... and maybe watch a new movie? Hey, I can maybe build the guts to finally watch Meg!”

Louis shuddered at the thought of the giant sea monster and sighed. “No, it’s fine. Might as well, yeah? What do clubs look like nowadays, anyway.”

“I’m sure they haven’t changed that much,” Harry says with a sheepish smile. “I haven’t been this year yet, to be honest.”

“I haven’t been in four years, at least.” Louis picks out a see-through plain white shirt, a green Adidas hoodie, and sinfully skinny jeans. Harry could only gawk like an idiot as Louis shrugs off his sweater and puts on the shirt and a green hoodie, giving him a peek of Louis’s toned, tanned back. As if sensing Harry’s eyes on him, Louis raises an eyebrow over his shoulder and retreats to the bathroom to change his jeans. Protecting the goods then, it seems.

Harry didn’t have anything dressy enough to change into, so he supposed the khaki-colored floral shirt he was wearing would do. He couldn’t be bothered anyway; he was only going home with one person tonight—both literally and metaphorically, he hopes.

It’s not that he wants to lose his virginity stat, now that he had the chance because of a semblance of a boyfriend in his life. It’s not that he wants to collect the experiences as fast as he could. It was just Louis, how much his heartbeats rushes in his ears when he was close, how much his very being aches to pull him closer, to _be closer_ , to truly belong to him, to climb inside Louis and stay. All he wanted to do was stay. Forever, as long as he was able. It was like all of his daydreams were finally coming true.

Louis emerges from the bathroom and silently gets his shoes on, his fringe brushed back neatly across his forehead. He sits back down beside Harry on the bed once he’s ready and takes a deep, tired breath. Harry takes his hand, intertwining their fingers together. “I’m not leaving your side the whole night. We can just have fun together. Sounds great, yeah?”

Louis looks down at their hands clasped together and smiles sadly. “I won’t mind if you find someone else to have fun with. It’s not like I’m any fun.”

“No, Lou, I’m only having fun with you,” Harry insists adamantly. He scoots closer and cuddles into Louis’ side. “Mine, mine, mine.” Harry knew he was being silly, probably annoying. Is Louis going to push him away and file a restraining order now?

But Louis’s arm only wraps around his shoulders and squeezes him without another word.

Niall barges in after a while to collect them, with nary a bat of an eye at how tangled they were with each other. Harry walks beside Hailee talking about his impending graduation, as Niall and Louis walk a few feet behind them, heads close together and talking too low for them to overhear.

“Ms. Steinfeld,” Harry starts in a conspiratorial whisper. “Uhm, Hailee.” They start to descend the stairs to the building’s garage to get to Hailee’s car. “Do you think Lou likes me?” He felt like he was back in middle school, asking around if his crush likes him back, but he had to know. He told Louis he loved him, and although Louis holds and kisses him like he does, he never said he loved Harry back.

Hailee only laughs, her face thoroughly amused. “Oh, darling. Louis is a fit guy; tons of men have asked him out after he broke up with that guy he’s been with for ages. You’re the only one he ever entertained. It’s safe to say he likes you a huge amount.”

Harry bites his lip at that, unable to keep the grin off his face. “That’s good to hear.”

Hailee squeezes his shoulder right before she hops into the driver’s seat of her Mercedes. “Give him some time.”

They all file into the car and drive toward the club. Harry and Louis were in the back seat, and Harry takes Louis’s hand in his, willing to give him all the time in the world.

_Up All Night_ was already packed with people by the time they arrived. Girls with the tiniest skirts and surprisingly shirtless men lingered along the entrance, smoking, vaping, and making out. Louis crowded close to Harry’s side and Harry takes this as an invitation to wrap his arm around his waist. “This isn’t a strip club, is it?” Louis attempts to joke, his voice faint.

Harry squeezes his waist reassuringly and whispers to his ear, “I’m right here, baby.”

They skip the line, because it turned out the bouncer was Niall’s student, to which Louis rolled his eyes at. The inside was even worse, suffocating at best. The lights above were neon green and purple, scintillating and flashing at random intervals. There were too many dark corners, where god only knows what was happening. The bar wrapped around the circular space, decked out with a glass counter and crystal lighting, with at least three bartenders on duty. Low couches surrounded the dance floor, where bodies were gyrating obscenely to dirty lyric EDM. The bass was thumping, reverberating jaws and bones, and the air was thick, smelling of sweat, alcohol, strong musky perfumes, tobacco, and weed. What a beautiful disaster. 

“Cool, right?” Niall shouts at them over the ear-splitting music. “Look at us cool kids!” 

“Don’t say that aloud anymore, Nialler,” Louis shouts back with a mocking chuckle. 

A hand grasps Harry’s other shoulder, and Harry whips around to find Liam having pushed through the throngs of people to approach them. “Haz!” he declares jovially. “This is a miracle! I actually found you.” 

“Li, I’d like you to meet Louis!” Harry was nearly screaming his head off. Liam looks at Harry’s side and gives Louis a friendly hug. 

“Hi!” Liam says. “I’d heard so many good things about you! It’s so nice to meet you finally!” 

Louis only squeezes back for a second and smiles faintly. “You too.” 

Harry could sense Louis’s discomfort and he shouts back at Liam. “We’re going to go get drinks!” 

Liam gives a thumbs-up, stepping backwards into the bodies on the dance floor, making a silly pulling rope motion with his hands. Harry makes a show of rolling his eyes and batting the air in front of him away. Niall and Hailee were already dancing, their eyes shut and their hips grinding together obscenely. Those were  _adults._ Harry shakes his head to dispel the image. Okay, Harry’s looking away now. He smiles down reassuringly at Louis and guides him to the farthest bar area, where the crowd seemed thinnest and the music wasn’t so loud. Louis orders a rum and coke, while he gets a cosmopolitan. 

“You okay?” he whispers loudly to Louis’s ear, as they step away from the nearest dancing couple and closer to the bar. 

Louis shrugs and steps closer into Harry’s hold, resting his head on his shoulder and swallowing loudly. “It’s just a lot. A bit overwhelming. I’m silly.” 

“Do you want to step out?” Harry says, his eyebrow furrowing. “We can go home right now.” 

“I think I don’t want to go home, actually,” Louis blurts out, as if suddenly reminded of that other option. The bartender deposits their drinks in front of them, and Louis places a couple of bills at the bar top, downing his drink as fast as humanly possible. He orders two rounds of tequila shots, too. Harry blinks and his glass was empty. 

“Lou, slow down,” he warns alarmingly. 

“Get fucking sloshed, right? That’s what normal people do in clubs,” Louis was muttering, almost to himself. “Oi, lad! Get us a couple of beers too! Heineken!” Wow, Louis was _loud_ when he shouts. 

“Lou? Are you sure?” 

“This is us, together having fun, H,” Louis says deadpan. 

And so, the night is young and it goes. They consume drink after drink. When a random girl offers them a joint (“ _This shit’s organic, bro. Hits different.”_ ), they sniff it, light it, and share it until it’s smoked to the quick. It wasn’t long before they get more tactile, clinging to each other, licking each other’s necks and sprinkling salt over skin for their tequila. Harry shivers whenever they touch, a little bit out of his head. And when they finally dance, it was electric. It was a fever dream, Louis sweaty in front of him, his back to his chest, grinding his hips to him like he was born for it, his eyes closed and lips parted almost in surrender. They dance slowly, sensually, skin to skin, and Harry fucking makes the most of it, running his hands along Louis’s chest, his sides, his hips, his groin, his ass, and  _Louis doesn’t make him stop_ . He can smell Louis’ sweat, can almost taste it, and when it was all he could think about, he does, ducking his head and licking at the sweat on the side of Louis’s neck. Louis pushes further back into him, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, revealing more of his neck. 

“Lou,” Harry almost growls. Their movements become more frantic, desperate. “I need you. I _fucking need_ you.”

“I’ve never heard you swear before,” Louis slurs out drunkenly. The bodies were pressing around them, still frenetic, sucking the air around them away, but Louis was all he could focus on. Everything else faded in comparison. 

“Please, please, please,” Harry mumbles out. The alcohol makes him brave enough to grasp Louis’s cock, the fabric of his jeans rough on his palm, and he groans in frustration. Louis was _hard_. “Lou, please.” 

Louis whirls around to face him. His eyes were hooded and glazed over with desire, dark eyelashes framing azure eyes. “Wanna get off, darling? Asking so nicely, huh?” 

Harry’s words were caught in his throat, and he nods frantically. His heart beats triple time as Louis leads them to a dark corner of the club that was partially obscured from the main area’s view. The couches were faux leather and curved half-circles, facing a wall and away from the crowd. It was hidden but not really. Louis pushes him into the couch and sits down beside him. They kiss hard and dirty, tongues connecting and teeth biting for a while. Then Louis’s hand reaches for his zipper and pulls it down. Harry pulls away from their kiss, their breaths mingling, heat and alcohol. “Oh my god,” he gasps out helplessly, as Louis pushes his boxers away and takes his cock into his hands, stroking hard and fast. 

A pair of girls passed behind them, laughing on their way to the toilet, but Harry was too far gone. A boy’s hand was around his cock,  _Louis’s hand_ was around his cock, and it felt too good. Fuck, who knew he liked getting off in public? He was a menace. God, this was illegal, wasn’t it? He’d go to jail for Louis Tomlinson though, no questions asked. It was dark enough that no one would see them unless they really looked, and Harry whimpers softly and closes his eyes, trying to not to make any overly conspicuous noise. 

“You better stay quiet, love,” Louis whispers lasciviously to his ear, stroking still and grinding his hips to Harry’s thigh. _Oh god, he was getting off too_. “Wouldn’t want anybody seeing you with your cock out, do we?” 

“L-lou, let me,” Harry stammers out. 

Their lips meet and kiss fiercely again, as Louis straddles Harry’s hips. Spurred on by the shoots of pleasure collecting in his belly, he undoes Louis’s zipper and starts stroking him too. 

Louis growls deep in his throat, and Harry gets lost in the sound, a little too high on the feeling of Louis around him,  _finally, at last_ , his hand firm around his cock, the taste of his saliva on his tongue. Louis was fucking amphetamines and cocaine. Intoxicating. The ruckus was still going on around them. Anybody could walk in any moment and see them getting each other off. But it only spurred them on, pinpointing their pleasure to a sharp, wild burn as they came one after the other, gasping into each other’s mouths, eyes wide from what had just occurred. 

And then they were laughing softly into each other’s necks, as Louis cheekily wipes their come with the inside of Harry’s shirt and they tuck each other back into their jeans discreetly. Harry grins wide, dimples popping out, and hugs Louis close to his chest. His breathing was still coming out in shallow gasps. “Do you think anybody saw?” he murmurs. 

“I don’t know, love. It was quite the show, I bet,” Louis answers back, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. 

_I’m so in love with you, Lou._

But he doesn’t say it, afraid of ruining the moment. Instead, he rests his head on Louis’ soft hair, holding him close, his world, his everything, while the people around them dance and scream and go to the toilet and get high and drink. Harry had Louis. And he felt like he finally had a chance to be happy now. 


	10. 10

Early June approached fast. As the chill of the late spring breaks and the toasty warm heat of the summer started to settle, Louis accepts his fate of being unable to stay away from Harry. He’s as good as Harry’s boyfriend now, though they never talked about it, because Louis’s a cowardly idiot and Harry is definitely too afraid of pushing him away. But strangely, Harry seemed content never to talk about it at all. They act like a couple with each other, hang out with Niall, Liam, and Hailee together, even go out for dinner sometimes and fool around afterwards, like they’re on an actual date. Which they’re not, Louis reassures himself. Louis even had a cupboard at Harry’s flat now too, which turned out to the be a fucking one-bedroom apartment at one of the poshest buildings closest to the university. It was definitely a sign that Harry was his boyfriend when he asks him to come with him to his graduation ceremony.

They were hanging out by the grassy quad in the middle of campus, lying on their backs with feet splayed on in front of them, Harry playing with his fingers like they were the most curious thing in the entire world.

Looking up at the sky and not meeting his eye, Harry asks almost shyly, “My graduation’s next week. Can you... can you drop by, maybe?”

“What do you mean ‘drop by’?” Louis says, trying to hide a smirk. “Drop by like some menace and not even attend the whole ceremony? Of course I’ll come to your graduation, Haz.”

Harry’s eyes light up, sparkling emeralds almost reflecting the green grass around them. “Really? It’s not a bother?”

Louis looks back at Harry, his eyes softening. He takes the back of Harry’s hand to his lips and kisses it lightly, sincerely. “Never.”

“I don’t know if my parents are coming, actually? I tried to call them... even reached out to their assistants and everything...” Harry’s ears were red in what seemed to the shame. Harry was fucking ashamed.

“Hey,” Louis protests. “There’s no need to feel bad. Fuck them. Liam isn’t graduating yet, but he’s coming too, right?”

Harry smiles tentatively. “Yeah, he is. I’m glad.”

“We should go to dinner, afterwards. The three of us. Somewhere decent to celebrate.”

Louis rarely suggested going out, but this was important. He would face any and all awkward social situations to get that frown off Harry’s face.

“I’ll try calling Mom again,” Harry insists, eyes wide, almost scared, definitely expecting rejection.

Louis wants to tell him to give up. That they’ve been gone three years and they definitely wouldn’t show up for Harry now. But Harry was persistent, he knew from personal experience. And Harry _loved_ his parents, despite everything. He’d call a thousand times if it meant he gets to celebrate his graduation with them. Louis only knows that Harry’s family is loaded. That his father was some big-time Wall Street CEO and investor, and his mother was a socialite, though Louis doesn’t have a clue what socialites even do on a daily basis. Louis had never even met them, wouldn’t like to judge, but he had the feeling they weren’t very good people. How they managed to raise a boy as sweet, as pure, as _kind_ as Harry is a total mystery.

The weather was picturesque on the day of Harry’s graduation, the sun bright, the air crisp and cool with a heartwarming summer breeze. A canvas tent was set up above whole quad where the ceremony takes place, the center aisle, the seats, and the stage all festooned in flower arrangements and the university’s maroon and gold. The university chancellor was up front, shaking the hands of the graduates while the parents and families cheered from behind. Louis and Liam cheered as loud as they could as Harry’s name was called and he retrieves his diploma and medal for his honors. Niall from the front of the stage, wearing a ridiculous red and black toga indicating his degree of education and position, stands up and claps demurely too. Louis felt proud of Harry, this boy he saw every week since he started university, working his hardest and studying his ass off, this boy who was the only thing he looked forward seeing after everything went to shit, this boy who saved him, who felt like his whole world, who _is_ his whole world.

As the ceremony comes to a close and the graduates part from their hugs and huddles to find their families, Harry rushes to him.

“Lou! I’m so glad you came!” Harry tumbles ungracefully into Louis’s embrace, arms wrapping around his neck

Louis laughs, holding on to his middle and spinning him around. “Ooff—careful, love. Congratulations. You did so well.” He kisses Harry’s temple, handing him the bouquet of sunflowers he bought as congratulations, which Harry beamed at like Louis gave him the sun itself.

Liam grins beside them and heartily pats Harry’s shoulder. “You’re a legend, H. Graduating early with honors?! Still can’t believe it, what a beast.”

“He’s a bit too weird not to be a genius,” Louis says with mischievous mirth in his eyes.

Harry cackles his head off and pulls away slightly. “Louuu...” He looks around, as if checking if anybody was looking at them, and pecks him quick and hard on the lips. “Thank you for coming. Thank you.” His dimples were out, pure happiness on his face, and Louis’s heart could burst. That’s all he really wants, for Harry to be always this happy.

He caresses Harry’s cheek. “Always, love.”

“Oh my god, Gemma, you came!” Liam exclaims beside them, waving like his arm could fall off at two women approaching them. The two women looked almost exactly alike, with rich long brown hair, symmetric faces, and dimples, one older than the other, with the brightest, most loving smiles.

“Gemma, I didn’t expect you to come!” Harry pulls away from Louis to tightly hug the younger one. Louis swears they could be twins. “Auntie Anne, thank you so much for coming.” She hugs Anne too, who Louis assumes to be Gemma’s mother.

Anne smooths out Harry’s curls affectionately, clutching Harry’s face as they hug. “Harry, I’m so proud of you. Look how much you’ve grown. You’ve graduated! My little baby.”

Harry blushes, his eyes delighted and crinkling at the corners, and clutches Anne’s and Louis’s hand. “Auntie, Gemma, this is my... my boyfriend, Louis.” He looks questioningly at Louis, as if asking permission for the address.

Louis only squeezes his hand, half-smiling. There’s no use denying it now. He’d have Harry as long as Harry wanted him too. No matter how much it might hurt later on. Louis shakes his head to dispel those thoughts, shaking Gemma’s and Anne’s hands as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“And you,” Gemma says with a teasing smile. “Harry doesn’t shut up about you, honestly.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Louis insists back gently, meaning every word.

“Oh, how adorable you two are,” Anne gushes, patting Louis and Harry on the shoulder.

The sunset was permeating around them, washing the celebrations around them in oranges and pinks. Louis looks at Harry as he arranges them all to ride in his car to the restaurant, giddy and almost bouncing in happiness. Louis feels a rush of gratefulness for the presence of Gemma and Anne. Harry’s asshole parents might not have shown up, but he’s blessed with people who love him anyway.

They get to the restaurant in time for their reservation. The restaurant was undoubtedly the best in town, complete with ambient golden lighting, crystal chandeliers, magenta floor-to-ceiling drapes, and velvet chairs unreasonably far from each other. Snobby classical music filtered from invisible speakers, and the silver cutlery clinked against guests’ plates. The aroma of the gourmet meals filled the room. Louis isn’t even shocked that Liam pulled out all the stops and booked them for a four-course meal. Louis’s Vans definitely don’t belong here.

As soon as they cross the restaurant’s threshold, Harry takes his hand. He doesn’t even feel a little nervous, happy and excited as he was for Harry, but he’s grateful for it anyway. Harry never seemed annoyed if he got uncomfortable with strangers or crowded places. He runs his thumb over Harry’s knuckles, feeling lightheaded with how good he felt, how _whole_. He never knew he could have this sort of normalcy again.

“Somebody has actually upgraded your reservation to a private room, sir,” the hostess was saying, checking her monitor. “She’s waiting inside. Elizabeth Styles?”

Harry looked shell-shocked, his hand tightening around Louis’. “Oh. Uhm, okay..”

The hostess smiles amiably, oblivious to the sudden silence in their little dinner party, and leads them farther inside the restaurant to where the private rooms were. “Congratulations, sir,” she says with a professional smile, as she opens the door, nodding as she sees the medal glinting on Harry’s chest against his button-down shirt.

Harry blushes and clasps the medal inside his palm, as though hiding it. “Thank you.”

A woman was waiting for them, siting down on the ornately set circular dining table. She was tall and blonde and gorgeous for a woman her age, decked out on a Chanel suit and pearls. Her eyes were the same as Harry’s, but without any kindness or soul in them. Her nails were acrylic red as she puts down her huge smartphone and opens her arms with a tiny smile on her perfectly painted red lips. “Darling,” she says to Harry. “Come give Mom a hug.”

Harry swallows beside Louis and steps forward almost tentatively. Louis squeezes his hand one more time, before he lets go. Harry hugs his mom, but she doesn’t prolong it any longer, stepping back and sitting down again after promptly saying congratulations. They settle down around the dining table, Harry firmly sitting Louis beside him with a squeeze to his thigh. God, this was awkward as fuck.

Lizzy was looking at Anne with narrowed eyes. “I’m glad you could come, Gemma. Hmm, Anne. Although Harry didn’t tell me you were invited.”

Harry’s eyebrows were furrowed. He fixes the curls by his ears, a telltale sign he was nervous. “You’re always welcome, you know that,” he insists, pouting at Gemma and Anne.

Gemma leans forward and pats Harry’s fidgeting hand on the table. “We know that, Haz, don’t worry.”

Lizzy didn’t seem to hear it. Instead, she zooms in on Liam and her eyes brighten. “Ah, William, nice to see a familiar face. How are Geoff and Karen? Sadly, I haven’t been paying any courtesy calls. Spending too much time in Portofino, as Harry may have told you.”

She didn’t have to mention that, but okay.

Liam glances at Harry, worrying his lip as the first course was set down in front of them by at least a thousand waiters. “Oh, uhm, they’re doing fine. Super thrilled, my sister’s actually getting married next month? I’m sure they sent you an invitation.”

“Ah, I would have to check with my assistant,” Lizzy says with a dismissive shrug. Fuck, she’s looking at Louis now. “And who might you be?”

Harry freezes suddenly and turns to face Louis fully, his face alarmed. This was when Louis remembers Harry’s mother _doesn’t even know he’s gay_. Louis rushes to say he was Harry’s close friend from uni when Harry’s face turns determined and he blurts out, “Mom, this is my Louis, my boyfriend.” _Now or never then_. Louis had to admire Harry’s endless bravery.

Lizzy’s eyebrows shoot up at that, then her green eyes narrow, looking pissed off and inconvenienced. “You have to be kidding.” She chuckles like she was waiting for Harry to drop the pun to his joke. “You never told me you were gay. You’ll get over it.”

“W-what?” Harry stammers out, his mouth dropping open in utter shock. He looks around the table for help, but the rest of the table was just as gobsmacked, their foods untouched on the table, apart from Lizzy who was already lifting her plate’s lid and scrunching her nose as she casually picks at her asparagus.

“Oh, come on, darling, that’s just silly,” Lizzy insists, her voice in almost a singsong. “Your father won’t like that. And it’s such a hassle. Better for you to find some nice girl once you finish med school and settle down. You want kids, don’t you? That boy can’t give you any of that.”

Louis presses his lips together, unable to speak.

Harry looked positively like he was about to throw up or punch something. “M-Mom, you can’t talk about Louis that way. He’s everything to me, and he deserves respect.”

“ _You_ don’t talk to me that way.” Lizzy whirls around and drops her spoon, crossing her arms across her chest. “Who even is this boy? And I don’t get why Anne and Gemma have to be here, either. God, Harry, the company you keep!” 

“What?!” Harry’s voice was rising. He looked like he was about to burst, a vein popping in his neck. “The Twists’ house has been more of a home to me than our house in Manhattan ever was, Mom. Anne practically raised me with all the time I spent at her house! And Gemma is like a sister to me! You can’t speak to them that way. I’m sorry, but, but I can’t stand for it!” 

“Harry, calm down, it’s okay,” Anne soothes him, her voice gentle, trying to extinguish the imploding situation. “We can all just sit back down and enjoy the meal. How does that sound? It’s your special day.” 

Lizzy snorts sardonically, shaking her head. “What an angel you are, huh, Anne? When in reality, you’re just a fucking whore!” 

“Hey, don’t talk to Mrs. Twist like that!” Louis exclaims, shocking himself. He couldn’t help it. Anne reminded him so much of Rainy it hurt. 

“Yeah, you enjoy the meal, you bitch. Not like you can afford it,” Lizzy mutters. 

“What the hell.” Gemma stands up abruptly. “I’m sorry, Harry. We love you, but we’re leaving.” 

Liam was looking around in a daze at the sudden turn of events, and Harry was utterly devastated. “You know what? I’m leaving, as well. We can eat somewhere else.” Harry grabs Louis’s hand, and Louis stands up too. 

“I can’t believe you, Harry!” Lizzy suddenly screeches. The whole room freezes. “You drag me here to this ugly town to celebrate your graduation with you, and you _leave_ me here? After everything I do for you, you treat me like this?! Do you even know these people you’re defending, huh? They’ve been lying to you your whole life!”

“Lizzy,” Anne speaks out, her tone a warning. “This isn’t the way to tell him.”

Fucking hell, were they in a telenovela or some shit? What the fuck is happening?

“What... what do you have to tell me?” Harry asks in almost a whisper, looking absolutely terrified.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Harry,” Gemma says apprehensively.

“She’s your half-sister, Harry,” Lizzy says, so casually like he wasn’t dropping some bomb on Harry’s world. “Anne was Richard’s partner before me.”

“That’s putting it lightly, Elizabeth, when you stole him away from me,” Anne retorts softly.

“That’s not what happened!”

“You can keep him, believe me. I don’t care. Though I heard you weren’t even able to manage that?”

“Shut up, Anne,” Lizzy almost whines, face ashamed.

“Ugh, I’m so tired of this,” Anne says with an exhausted sigh.

Harry was looking back and forth at Anne, Gemma, and Lizzy with his mouth agape, unmoving, eyes wide as saucers. He seemed utterly unable to form a coherent response.

“H, I think we better go,” Gemma says apologetically. She sighs deeply and steps forward to hug Harry. Harry didn’t respond at first, but long last, he returns her hug, clutching at her shirt.

“I just.. Wait, I don’t understand...”

Anne hugs him too, stroking his cheek lightly. “Richard and I were never married, but it’s true. He did cheat on me with Lizzy. It’s a mess. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

Lizzy sucks a breath through her teeth as though exasperated, tapping her foot incessantly. “That’s a succinct way of saying it.”

Harry takes a step back from all of them and he stumbles toward Louis. “I can’t... uhm, I need some air.” He takes Louis’s hand, and they retreat hastily from the room without another look back.

They stumble out of the restaurant like it was on fire. Louis bites his lip worriedly as Harry paces back and forth on the pavement. The people strolling along were giving them a wide berth with judging glances at Harry’s way, and Louis wanted to smack all of them.

“I can’t leave it like this,” Harry finally concludes, turning and facing Louis. Louis’s heart broke at the fear in Harry’s eyes, the hurt in his hunched shoulders. “If I don’t confront Mom about this now, I’ll never know the truth.”

Louis gives his hand a firm squeeze. “I’ll wait for you right here, love. You’re not alone in this, never again.” He lifts up to the balls of his feet a little to kiss Harry briefly on the lips.

“Thank you,” Harry says gratefully. He squeezes Louis’s hand back and returns inside. Now it was Louis’s turn to pace. He watches Harry as he walks back to the area of the private rooms, fidgeting nervously with his fingers, his curls now an indiscernible tangled mess above his head, and he ached so badly for him. He didn’t ask for his life to be turned upside down on his graduation dinner. This was total shit. The boy couldn’t even celebrate in peace.

Gemma, Anne, and Liam exit the restaurant soon after, their faces forlorn.

“I think it’s better if we leave Harry to process first,”Anne explains as he hugs Louis goodbye and rubs his back. “We don’t want him to be any more upset. We can celebrate some other time.”

“Take care of him, yeah, Louis?” Gemma inquires with sad hazel eyes.

Louis assures them, pats Liam on the shoulder goodbye as well. No matter what else Harry finds out of this night, Louis would be there for him.


	11. 11

Harry braces himself as the rest of the dinner party leaves. Gemma kisses his cheek, and Anne and Liam hug him goodbye, and then they were gone. Harry fumbles to take the seat across his mother, who in typical fashion has already lit up a Parliament and was exhaling smoke out of her red lips. Like she didn’t just reveal the secrets Harry had known deep in his bones had haunted his family his whole life.

“So you came back for the sob story then, hmm, Harry?” Lizzy asks nonchalantly. “What little table manners your friends have, leaving before the entree! How embarrassing! We’re surely blacklisted from this restaurant now.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind. We did pay for it,” Harry mumbles, mindlessly rearranging the untouched silver utensils set before him.

“Richard and Anne were together since they were teenagers, if you must know,” Lizzy starts. She crosses her legs, looking at a point to the right of Harry’s eyes. She wasn’t looking at him. She never did. Harry sees those exact eyes every day when he looks into the mirror, but he has never looked into them in the likeness of his mother’s. “Gemma was a year old, I think, on the year they were supposed to get married and he met me. I was Richard’s waitress at this coffee shop he frequents before going home. I had just moved to Manhattan, ready to chase my dreams of becoming a singer, when I met him. He would flirt with me, fuck me in the bathroom and in alleyways, in the coffee shop’s kitchen! I was sixteen, and I thought I was in love with him.” 

Harry swallowed at Lizzy’s words, not just for how crude they were, but at her  _tone_ , dripping with venom and regret and pain and hurt.  _Regret_ . “I didn’t know he had a family. But when I found out I was pregnant with you, I told him and he  _laughed_ at me. Told me I was stupid to get pregnant, that I was such a fucking slut for sleeping around so much. But I only ever slept with him, Harry, once I moved here, and he was the only man I loved.” Lizzy looks down then, at the perfectly manicured nails of her hand, flicking ash off her cigarette into the perfect crystalline ashtray. Her face was perfect too, a well-drawn blank canvas expertly conveying nothing. Her eyes were black holes. 

Lizzy sits up as if bracing herself for her next words, building up her armor. “I had no choice, see. I was high and drunk, I was broke, and he was the only one I could rely on. I ran away from home because my parents were literally white trailer trash who hit me every chance they got. I realized then that I was sixteen and he was a man of nearly thirty. I threatened to sue him, and my case was strong because I was pregnant with his child. He’s a CEO, you see, with a company on the brink of breaking into the Fortune 500. He can’t afford to have his reputation tarnished at that time, and if my case reached court, a lot of his other victims would turn up too. I had enough ammunition on my side to force him to marry  _me_ . So he could provide for us.”

Harry felt tears starting to prick his eyes, vomit starting to collect at his throat. He always knew his father had skeletons in his closet, dead bodies just waiting to resurface, inevitable shame, inevitable disappointment. He always knew his father was unfaithful and greedy, but he didn’t know he was  _vile_ and  _cruel_ and just so  _disgusting_ . Harry was almost glad he never got to really know him at all. 

“Shouldn’t Anne be grateful to me?” Lizzy muses almost absently. “If it wasn’t for me, she never would have known she had been living with a piece of shit human.”

“Does... does that explain your behavior towards me, then?” Harry asks softly, tears flowing freely down his cheeks now, his hands clasped tight under the table. What does this even say about him? That he was a son of this type of dysfunctional family? That he was a son of a man who hurt so many people? Who hurt his own wife?

“What ever do you mean, Harry? I have managed to give you everything you have ever asked for,” Lizzy says with utter conviction. “You have food to eat and a roof over your head. The best education money could buy, more money than you would know what to do with! I put up with seeing and tolerating that horrid man so we could live this kind of life. I do everything I can for you to have the best life!” 

_My parents were literally white trailer trash who hit me every chance they got.._

Harry realizes then that  _that_ was the only thing Lizzy ever looks for in life and the only best thing she thinks a parent can give her child—money, security, luxury. Everything she was starved of and she starved for her whole life. It was the only kind of love she understood. 

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Harry finally says, trying to meet her eyes and reaching for her milky white hand.

But Lizzy looked almost fearfully dead inside, and she smiles almost sardonically, shaking her head. “Don’t be such a crybaby, Harry. Welcome to the real world.” She pulls her hand back and tucks it under her elbow, blowing smoke into the space between them. 

Harry purses his lips and nods. It was more shocking to him that he wasn’t more surprised by his mother’s story. Lizzy had always been distant from Harry, never showed affection or fondness or concern. Harry would cry and whine as a child because he scraped his knee or he fell down the last two steps of the stairs, and Lizzy never comforted him. He came home from school one time, shaking and with tear tracks on his face because Liam got the flu and wasn’t there to protect him from the mean boys who bullied him for his pink socks and purple jellyfish crayon case. He burst inside their penthouse sobbing, looking for her and finding her in her vanity, clutching at her leg  _because the boys made fun of him and it hurts_ . But Lizzy merely shook off his grasp on her skirt and made him leave the room, mildly annoyed. Over time, he stopped asking for comfort from Lizzy, stopped looking for his father that he never saw. He withdrew and realized mothers and fathers just don’t treat their children that way. It’s what he tells himself. 

But he would get dropped off at Gemma’s place, and he would see Anne having actual conversations with her, kissing her forehead as she gave Gemma her hot chocolate. He would play with Liam and his sisters, and Geoff would join them in building pillow forts and making Play-Doh donuts. All his childhood, Harry wondered. He wondered what was so different with him, that his father never made pillow forts with him, that his mother would only look at him disdainfully as he cried. He wondered what made him so inadequate that he didn’t deserve to be loved by them. 

The thought multiplies Harry’s tears, but he stays silent. He looks at Lizzy and see what he has bore witness to his whole life, this cold, hard, strong woman who had been through so much but would never crack, completely frozen in her state because if she flinched, she would break. Harry’s heart clenched in pain for her. He should be furious. He should be demanding why they had to ruin his life too with all the shit they did to ruin theirs. But Harry realizes, she was crying  _for her_ . 

With a jolt, Harry stands up and crosses the small space to his mother, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her tight in an embrace they had never shared before. “I’m sorry,” he says again, intensely, angrily, desperately. This was his mother. She didn’t deserve to have been treated that way by her parents or by Dick. Lizzy was his mother, and she may not love him like he needed her to, but he loved her with everything he had. 

Lizzy was stiff in his embrace, physically unable to reciprocate. She does pat Harry’s back twice. The smoke from her lips whiffs around them. “Alright, now,” she murmurs softly. It was the softest Harry has ever heard her voice. 

Harry pulls away and steps back, hands shyly behind his back. “Do you.. do you want to get dinner with me and Louis someplace else?” 

Lizzy grimaces as if the thought was extremely inconvenient for her. “Don’t even get me started with that boy. Just go, Harry. Congratulations.” 

That hurt. With a final nod, Harry retreats and goes back outside to find Louis. When he sees Louis, leaning like a novel protagonist just beside the restaurant entrance, he rushes to him, arms wrapping around his neck. He inhales Louis’s familiar scent of vanilla and baby powder, sinking into his embrace. He didn’t realize he started crying again until Louis started earnestly rubbing his back, shushing him soothingly. 

“M’sorry,” Harry blubbers out, wiping vigorously at his eyes. “I’m such a drama queen.” 

“Babe, you have to stop saying that,” Louis admonishes softly. Harry pulls back, looking deep into Louis’s electric blue eyes, finding everything he was looking for there. “You could cry a million tears, and it’s still perfectly okay.” 

They stay that way for a while. Louis doesn’t pry anything out of him and Harry was thankful. He didn’t know if he wanted to admit all of that awful stuff yet. 

“I want to go home, Lou,” he murmurs with a sniff, nuzzling into Louis’s neck. 

“My place?” 

“Yes, please.” 

They walk back to the Range Rover, cuddled close to each other’s sides. Harry thanks his lucky stars that even if his graduation night has assuredly gone to shit, at least he had Louis. Even if it’s just for tonight. Or how many more nights Louis was willing to give him. 

Harry’s unease settles a bit as Louis opens the door to his studio, the warm yellow light almost soothing to his soul. Louis wraps his arms around him from behind, and he giggles as Louis starts to deftly unbutton his shirt. “I can’t believe you can perfectly unbutton shirts from behind,” Harry laughs out. 

Louis runs his hands playfully along Harry’s sides, tickling him, and Harry cackles and tries to squirm away. “Ahh, Lou! What are you on?” He collapses to the bed unceremoniously, face-first. He starts to blush as Louis takes off his slacks too. He whips his head around with an evil grin. “Are we... you know? Gonna do stuff?” 

“Gonna do what, H? What ever do you mean?”Louis says with a smirk, knowing full well Harry isn’t capable of articulating right now. 

Harry wiggles his bum at him teasingly, scooting further back on the bed so Louis can lie down beside him. “ _You know_ ... the acts and such.” 

With a faux dramatic sigh, Louis runs his hands through the curls of his hair, untangling them slowly. “Calm down, tiger. You okay?” 

Harry lies down on his back without another word, staring up at the cracks on the beige ceiling. This tiny studio felt more like home to him than his parents’ penthouse or his giant apartment ever did. He takes Louis’s hand in his, moves his fingers around with his. Louis watches him, patient and worried and so purely lovingly Harry could almost convince himself that Louis loved him too. He was too afraid to ask if he really did. 

So instead, Harry divulges everything his mother told him. How Lizzy was basically a child when she had him, that his father was practically a disgusting predator (he admits this with an ashamed, hurt wince). How he was angry at himself because he wasn’t even angry at Lizzy for how she treated him. Because he was too sad for her, instead. Through it all, silent tears streaked down his face, a constant stream, and he sniffles between sentences, chuckling wetly and loudly admonishing himself for being such a baby about all of this. 

Louis clutches him tighter to his chest, strong and constant and  _here_ , “Harry, please... you have to get it in your head that you can feel whatever you have to feel. Everything you feel is valid, okay? It’s okay to be sad about it.” 

Harry didn’t realize these were the words he was looking for, the words he was looking for his entire life. And it makes him burst into tears, all of the hurt bottled up inside him, all of the pain he distracted himself into forgetting with all the hobbies in the world. All the times he told himself to  _stop crying_ , because nobody cried this much, he was a grown-up now, he was seven, he was ten, he had to stop crying because nobody was coming to kiss it better. His sobs felt like it was going to break him, ripping through his chest like it was hammering fissures into his soul. But for a change, Louis was there to catch him now. Louis who was haunted by the ghosts of his past, who had cracks in his own heart, who was stronger than anybody he knew. He held him through it all, from its progression, to its crescendo, to its ebbing away. 

Louis held him together.

\---

  
  


He wakes up the next day to Louis moving clothes around in his dresser, tiptoeing and obviously trying to be quiet. Harry peeks a bouquet of white lilies on the floor near his feet. 

“Lou?” he calls, voice raspy from sleep. He clears his throat, squinting his eyes. He could feel their heaviness from all the tears they expunged last night. “Where you going?” 

Louis whirls around, caught off guard. He sits back down beside Harry by the bed, caressing his cheek fondly. “Go back to sleep, Curly. I just have a little errand to run.” 

Harry sits up, rubbing groggily at his eyes. “I’m coming with you.” 

“You don’t have to, love,” Louis insists, frowning at Harry with concern. “Do you feel better?” 

Harry snorts out a laugh, picking a random band shirt and joggers off his drawer. “Of course I do. Just had to get that off my system.” He smiles with a small shrug, reaching out to take Louis’s hand and kissing it. “Thank you.” 

Louis smiles back, a little sadly, and squeezes his hand. His eyes seemed hollow today, closed off, his hands a little colder than normal. Harry slips into his clothes and deposits himself back to the bed beside Louis to ask what was wrong, but Louis stands up, face a blank slate, lips pursed.

“I have to pass by the diner near campus,” he informs Harry casually. 

“Okaay,” Harry draws out. “Not a problem, Lou.” He raises an eyebrow at Louis in question, but he doesn’t budge.

Louis asks him to hold the bouquet of lilies as they ride on Louis’s fire engine red motorcycle to the campus diner. Harry doesn’t ask another question as Louis orders them two cheeseburgers and three milkshakes, one strawberry, one chocolate, and one vanilla. His heart starts to clench in dread as they ride for fifteen minutes more to the stone arch of the Saint Joseph cemetery.

It was a serene early summer morning. The sunlight wasn’t too harsh yet, rendering the headstones on the knolls of grassy hills with a surreal gleam. The clouds were moving lazily, watching the living and the dead, and the sky was as clear and blue as Louis’s eyes. The light breeze brought wafts of dug earth and the faint pungent scent of rotting flowers. They park right in front of a gleaming black marble headstone. Louis smiles sheepishly at Harry as they dismount. He opens the motorcycle’s compartment to deposit their helmets and get their takeout. He lays out a square paisley picnic blanket onto the grass and the flowers held on Harry’s hands above the headstone. It read, _Lorraine_ _Tomlinson,_ her date of birth and death, and the epitaph: _“Shining eternally_.”

“Sit with me, Haz,” Louis says quietly, as he sits down on the blanket and starts setting their food in front of them.

“Oh, Lou,” Harry says softly, lips turning down in sadness and sympathy. He sits close to Louis, wrapping his arms tight around Louis’s middle. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Today was the fourth anniversary of Rainy’s death.

Louis merely fixes a wayward curl on Harry’s forehead, stabs a straw on the strawberry milkshake, and places it directly in front of the headstone. “It’s tradition for me, to come here and drink this milkshake with her. It was the last meal we shared.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, utterly devastated. What do you say to a grieving son? How do you tell them it was going to be okay, when the very thing they grieve and miss and long for was irretrievable? Forever gone? How does one stop hearts from aching at all? He can only hold on to Louis tighter as they ate. Louis didn’t seem to have anything else to say either, but the silence wasn’t awkward. There was nobody else in the cemetery, and the place was so peaceful, they could be in any other park in town. They lay back down against the blanket, soft and warm against their skin, like there were no souls laid to rest underneath the earth.

“We migrated to the States when I was ten years old,” Louis starts in almost a whisper. Harry’s eyes flicker open in surprise, and he curls into Louis, focused on his face in rapt attention. Louis was looking up at the sky, his eyes glazed over, far away. “I remember crying so bad. All my friends were in the UK, mates I had since I was a toddler. But mum was convinced a better life was waiting for her here. She was just.. such a funny person, and quirky and weird. She always held her head high.”

Louis closes his eyes then. Harry takes his hand in his, holds it close to his chest, knowing that Louis needed something stable to hold onto to.

“Both of her parents passed away when she was young, and she didn’t have any siblings. She wasn’t close enough to her extended relatives to ask for their help. And when she had me, her boyfriend got scared, packed his bags, and disappeared to god knows where. I never knew my father, and my mom worked so hard, _so hard_... to raise me on her own. She would work double shifts at the restaurant; she sidelined as a masseuse. As a child, my only goal in life was to provide for her someday, to give her everything she could ever want.” Louis breathes hard at this, and he clenches his eyes further shut, as though to block out unwanted thoughts. His hands clench into fists, fingers a death grip on Harry’s. “I had so much planned, things I would do for her, once I graduated and got a job. She died a week before my graduation.”

Harry closes his eyes too, unable to look at Louis, at the breaths he was struggling to take, at the pain written all over his face. “The day that they took her, I wish it was me instead,” Louis admits softly, voice cracking. “Sometimes... sometimes I still think that.”

Harry’s heart breaks as he forces himself to look at Louis, and he scoots closer, cuddling tightly into Louis’ side, making it impossible for him to feel that he was alone. Louis should never ever feel alone.

“I remember when I was a child, the first thing I would look for when I wake up was her. It hurt, you know? It hurt like hell to wake up and realize that she wasn’t there anymore. I couldn’t even walk around campus without breaking down the first few months, because it was the last place where I spent time with her, the last time I ever spoke to her and looked into her eyes. I didn’t... I didn’t even see the point of my graduating anymore, if she wasn’t there to see it. It was what we worked for our whole lives, you know? And I’m so afraid, Harry, so afraid of living for more years than the years I’ve had her in my life... because what even is the point in that? She was the only family I had.”

Quietly, like the still rivers in tranquil springs, tears ran down the corner of Louis’ shut eyes. They ran down his temples and dripped to the paisley blanket in steady streams, a portrait of anguish. “I only saw her cry once my whole life, and it was when I went to college, because she said she would miss me too much. I just want to know where she is. Is she okay? Is she happy? Is she just... gone? I never even... I never even got to tell her how much I would miss her too. Never even got to say goodbye.”

Harry’s eyes were wet now too, but he ignores it, leaning forward to kiss Louis’s eyes instead, his cheeks, his temples, slowly and reverently, kissing the salt of the tear tracks away. Louis’s arms surge forward, wrapping around Harry’s shoulders as if he was holding on for dear life. Harry could hear the rapid beating of Louis’s heart, every single beat pumping his blood, giving him life. He feels the rise and fall of his chest. And although it was shallow and distressed, it signified a continuing, fighting existence. Louis was _alive_ , and that mattered.

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry murmurs into his chest hopelessly, wishing he could take Louis’s pain away. “Do you know that... They say humans are merely a collection of atoms, a universe within a universe... And the energy of those atoms, it cannot be destroyed, Lou. They return to the world around us, to the cosmos. And Rainy’s body may be gone, but the essence of her soul is eternal. It’s in the heat of the sunshine beating down on us, the stars in the night sky, the light that hits your very eyes. She’s right here alongside us.” 

Louis takes Harry’s face between his palms and lifts it so their eyes meet. Louis’s eyes were deep and wet as wells, utterly forlorn, mourning for the dead and grieving for the living. There was the tiniest smile on his lips, minute and fleeting, but it was there. He kisses Harry’s forehead fervently. “Thank you. I can’t argue with the laws of thermodynamics, can I?” 

Harry’s lips twitch helplessly into a tiny smile of his own and he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.” He carefully thumbs the tears on Louis’s eyes away. “I love you so much, Lou. I’m with you, always.”

Louis leans forward to kiss him on the lips. They linger for a few minutes, touching lips like they were caressing glass, tender and devout and soft. Souls twining, eternal.

They lie down on the grass, basking in the sunshine, in each other’s embrace, in the wildflower-laced wind, in the fragile, precious, effervescent immortality of this moment in time. But soon enough, the sun becomes too unforgiving and bright, and they sit up and pack in companionable silence. 

Louis runs his palm along Rainy’s headstone before sighing deeply. He looks up at Harry with an almost defeated smile. “I realized that parents... they’re only human too, Haz. Sometimes they fuck off. Sometimes they’re gone too soon. Sometimes they aren’t any good.” He shrugs helplessly and looks down at the words inscribed on the jet black marble. “We love them anyway.” 

Harry purses his lips, feeling an ache in his chest as the truth of Louis’s words resonated within him, as the understanding in Louis’s words made him feel just a little less alone. He places his hand above Louis’s on the headstone, and holds on like he was never going to let go.

He doesn’t ever intend to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not a physicist haha.. I have read about that though, the immortality of a person's energy due to the laws of thermodynamics. And isn't it such a comfort, anyway? Also I have never been anywhere near NY, so these places are completely fictional.


	12. 12

“You little shit!” Harry squeals out, mouth wide in indignation, as he hurries to grab his napkin and wipe the butter cream Louis had smeared all over his nose. “My sunscreen’s all wiped out now.” He pouts as he dabs lightly at his nose, eyes narrowed in mock annoyance and poorly hidden amusement.

Louis cackles out the loudest, most embarrassing laugh he could muster, grinning like a lunatic as he takes Harry’s hand away from his face and licks the remaining butter cream off his nose. He tastes the sunscreen on his tongue, and his face contorts sourly, the bemusement sparking in his eyes notwithstanding. Harry’s nose and cheeks turn a darling tomato red almost immediately, and he purses his lips in utter delight, closing his eyes as though savoring Louis slobbering all over his skin. “You’re such an idiot,” Louis sighs out, absolutely delighted, absolutely happy.

It was a mere two weeks before Harry was moving back to Manhattan, his apartment already partially packed and ready to be taken back to the city. But Louis doesn’t dare linger on those thoughts right now. He hasn’t gone on a road trip/vacation in _ages_ , and today they were driving to Vermont with Liam, Niall, and Hailee to the prestigious Payne lake house. Liam invited them, for it was trout season (he and Harry wanted to catch a few, although Louis cannot get on board with the fascination) and they had to celebrate Harry’s graduation somehow.

After that disastrous dinner and the melancholy weekend that ensued, Harry holed up in Louis’s apartment, making Louis sandwiches and green juice and binge-watching old shows, despite Louis’s inquiries and insistence that he really should talk to and seek some comfort in Gemma and Anne, who obviously loved and supported him (he also insisted that Harry stop with the avocado toast and the green juice, without any apparent success). Although he didn’t verbalize it, Louis knew a part of Harry was ashamed with what went down between their families and was not ready to confront it yet. Louis didn’t push, but he did make Harry promise to talk to them once he settled back in Manhattan. As for the state of their relationship once Harry moved back, neither of them said a word.

So to get Harry out of his funk, they collectively decided to take a trip to the lake house. They were waiting for Liam to pick them up at the campus coffee shop where they decided to eat breakfast before hitting the road, cuddled close together in a booth, Louis’s head tucked into Harry’s neck, holding hands and feeding each other bits of the giant cinnamon bun and cheese croissant they ordered, their shared carry-on bag like a third wheel in the bench in from of them.

Harry was giggling and wiping at Louis’ saliva on his nose, muttering in his terrible British accent about Louis being a wanker, when a light hand taps on Louis’ shoulder. Expecting it to be Liam, Louis whirls around with a grin on his face, ready to berate him for being, as per usual, fifteen minutes early. But his face sinks into a blank, skeptical mask when he sees who it was instead.

Sometimes Louis forgets that Nick is a professor at the university too, that he still eats in the same places Louis does, walks in the same side streets, still lives close to campus. He was an English Literature professor, and their shared interest in books and reading was the primary reason they got along so well. Louis’ smile disappears and he clears his throat, posture stiffening. The last time he saw Nick personally, he was begging him not to leave.

“Nick,” Louis tries to say nonchalantly, plastering on a friendly smile on his face. “Nice to bump into you here.” Although he was the one who approached them, but sure.

Harry was silent beside him, but Louis could see from his peripherals that Harry’s eyes were wide, his hands fidgeting nervously, watching their exchange like this was the tennis match of the century.

“I’m glad to see you, Louis,” Nick replies, his smile looking almost apologetic. “I’m glad that you’re doing better, truly.”

That would be the angle he was going for, then. A few weeks before Harry asked him out, Nick had written to him via e-mail, asking for his forgiveness for everything that transpired between them, for how he left because he got tired of _handling_ Louis. They ended up texting a bit too. Before that moment, Louis thought he was still in love him. But talking to him like they used to before they broke up just felt like all sorts of wrong, all sorts of long and gone, just all sorts of _boring_. Nick hurt him, but that’s not the only reason Louis doesn’t want to be with anymore.

“Thanks, you too,” Louis says. And he was sincere in that. Nick’s hair was a mess as it always was, but he still looked good, tall and lean and stylish, an e-reader in one hand, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and reading glasses hanging from a dainty gold chain around his neck. His eyes were still the same warm, kind brown. It seemed he hadn’t changed at all. “Um, this is my boyfriend, Harry.”

Harry seemed unfairly surprised that he was invited into the conversation, but he blushes beet red up to his ears, holds out his hand, and stammers out an awkward hello. Nick shakes his hand back firmly. Louis never expected to get to watch his romantic comedy showing-he-had-moved-on-with-his-super-fit-extra-hot-boyfriend revenge scene play out today, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Uhm, hi, Mr. Grimshaw, I actually know you! You were teaching the class just below mine...” Louis forgot that Harry knew all the faculty gossip; of course he ends up knowing Nick on some level.

“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Nick says thoughtfully. He meets Louis’s eyes and raises his eyebrow quizzically, as if to say, _ah, so you decided to shack up with a child_. Louis was having none of that.

“Harry just graduated a couple weeks ago,” Louis adds. He takes Harry’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly underneath the table. “We’ve been having a great time together so far.” Was that appropriate to say? But on some level, Harry must know that Nick was the singular ex he was talking about, and he had to assure him that Nick means nothing to him now. He may not be able to get it out of his mouth that he loved Harry yet, but he could do this at least.

“I can see that,” Nick says. And it was so weird, hearing who Louis thought was the love of his life a year ago, talk to him in nothing but a platonic manner, like he was just an old friend catching up with him. “Uhm, I would actually like you to meet...”

A woman approaches them at that point, blue-eyed and brunette and hugely pregnant, a sweet smile on her face and a tray of to-go coffee cups on her arm. She wraps an arm around Nick’s waist and beams at them. She immediately holds out her hand for Harry and Louis to shake. “Hi! I’m Florence.”

They exchange introductions and hand shakes before Nick tells them, “Florence is my wife.”

Louis looks down at Florence’s huge belly, obviously about to pop, and he waited for the onslaught of upset about this to hit him. But there was nothing. He knew Nick was bisexual and that he always wanted children of his own. Louis was surprised to find out he was happy for him. He smiles warmly at them both, standing up to hug Florence first, patting her once on the back and then Nick. “I’m happy for you, Nick. I really am. I wish nothing but the best for your family.”

Relief seemed too simple a word to describe the look on Nick’s face. But he clutches Louis’s bicep, squeezes once, and whispers only to him, “I’m so happy for you too, Lou. I can see it in your eyes, that you feel better.”

“I’m getting there,” Louis says, stepping back and patting Nick’s shoulder too. “Thank you.”

Harry excitedly squeals out his congratulations to Florence and Nick as well, asking if he could touch Florence’s belly, to which Louis insisted that he really shouldn’t. But Florence was enthusiastic about it, and together they coo over the due date and the baby shower’s register and the camphor she should buy to relieve her swollen feet. Louis shakes his head at Harry’s fascination with pregnancy, utterly fond, and then Nick and Florence had to say their farewells.

“You have too many tricks up your sleeve, Curly,” Louis observes softly, smiling and smoothing out a few stray tangles on Harry’s curls. Harry only shrugs and kisses his palm. He would have to clear some things up about Nick to Harry, Louis knew. He owed him that. But for now, they finish the rest of their breakfast.

\---

More than anything else, Louis loved kissing Harry. He was just _obsessed_ with the way Harry kissed, so passionately, like he was running out of breath and he had to take air from Louis’s lungs, so reverently, like every lick and taste Louis gave him was as glorious and beheld as the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel. His tongue smooths down the bites and nips he gives to Louis’s bottom lip and as Harry’s leg starts to tangle up between his own and they start to really _devour_ each other, Harry whines out a needy, guttural moan.

“ _We can hear you, you know_!” Niall exclaims from the front passenger seat, his voice so loud and offended it reverberates inside the mini van. “Dear lord, help us, they’re actually making out there in the back, Liam! Legitimately humping each other!”

Liam only snorts and shakes his head bemusedly, sneaking a glance at Louis and Harry at the very backseat. Hailee was lying down in the middle of them in the second row, huge Beats headphones on her ears and lightly snoring. She gets car-sick during long drives if she doesn’t sleep. Harry meanwhile, looks wickedly pleased with himself, not distancing from Louis one bit, instead wrapping his arms tightly around his middle and snuggling into his side. Louis smiles back fondly and kisses his temple.

“Sorry, lads,” he says, trying to sound contrite. He isn’t at all. “For the record, we weren’t humping.”

“You were about to,” Niall mutters, but there was a teasing undertone to it. Niall wasn’t really annoyed. Louis knew he really was happy for him, happy that he found Harry at last.

“Well, if Mr. Horan says we were, we really should!” Harry shoots back with a grin so wide it almost splits his face.

“I’m rooting for you, bro,” Liam says encouragingly, apparently very on board with Louis and Harry making out a few handful of meters from them.

“That’s just weird, Liam,” Niall says deprecatingly.

Harry giggles and starts trailing soft kisses down the side of Louis’s throat. They went back to full-on snogging after a few minutes, with Harry pushing Louis to lean against the side window and straddling his hips. They tried their best to keep quiet, the heat between them simmering underneath their wandering fingertips. Niall turns up the radio to drown them out, anyway.

Louis’s lips felt sore by the time they arrived at the lake house. It was almost mid-afternoon by the time they touch down, and they could feel the slight change in the air that indicated they weren’t close to any sort of civilization. As he steps down to the earth, crunchy with fallen leaves, broken branches, and random stones, Louis’s breath gets taken away by the view. The van was parked right in front of Lake Alba, clean and expansive and reflecting off the blues of the sky and the greens and oranges of the trees along the looming mountains. The white lake house was behind them, wooden with a slate gray roof and a screened-in porch, a long deck from its sparse front garden heading straight to the lake. Two fishing boats and a motorboat were anchored by the deck, bobbing lazily in the steady water. The sun was still high above them, giving everything a dreamy, golden hue and the air was crisp, light, and cool, nothing like the chilly smog that always covered Wren Brighton. It felt like a different universe entirely, where literally everything was just brighter. More hopeful.

Niall whistles. “Jeez, who knew these kids were so loaded?”

“Dad’s secretary called the groundskeeper who lives a bit further down the lake,” Liam announces offhandedly as he unloads their bags from the back compartment of the van. “So the house’s all cleaned and the pantries are fully stocked.”

“Exactly my point,” Niall says with a rather amazed shrug, looking at Louis with a disbelieving smile on his face.

Louis shrugs back, squealing in shock when Harry slaps his bum and wraps his arms around him from behind.

“Amazing view, right?” Harry murmurs to the shell of his ear. “I know the room we have to take. Has this skylight and faces the lake and everything.”

Louis twists his head back and grins, kissing the corner of Harry’s lips. “As long as you’re there, love.”

“Gross,” Niall rebuffs teasingly with a wrinkle to his nose. He was about to say something else but Hailee starts running to the lake with her hands clasped to her mouth, clearly going to be sick. “Oh no, Hailee!” Niall rushes past them to push her hair back, just as she projectile vomits to the pristine water.

Once they made sure Hailee was alright and they’ve gathered their bags, they go inside the lake house. Louis and Niall roam around a bit, in awe of the mini theater, the technologically complicated kitchen, the pool table, and the hot tub inside the main bathroom. There were four bedrooms and all of them had queen-sized beds and en suites, and Louis couldn’t even recall a time in his life where he had set foot in a place this huge and ostentatious. He most probably never had.

Liam insisted they start fishing right away, and although hypothesizing fishing to be extremely boring, Louis joins them as Niall decides to accompany Hailee as she kipped. He would do anything to be with Harry, anyway. He changes into swimming trunks and nothing else, to which Harry only gawks at as they load into the fishing boat parked furthest on the deck.

They were in the center of the lake with life jackets tied to their shoulders, the motor of the boat turned off so the fish won’t get scared away. Liam and Harry were holding fishing rods, a basket of bait between them on the boat’s floor, patiently waiting for a bite as Louis lies back, ankles crossed and arms behind his head, closing his eyes against the glare of the sun.

Louis was halfway asleep when Liam shouts like a fucking gorilla. “I caught one! I caught one!” Harry panics with him, and for a couple of boys who talk a lot about _trout season_ and _circulating bait_ , they really sounded like they had no clue how to handle reeling actual fish in. Louis opens one eye, trying to refrain from bursting into raucous laughter, as Liam and Harry shout and struggle to get the fish onto the boat.

“Harry, I think we should get the hook off!” Liam exclaims in a tizzy, holding the humongous fish at arm’s length as it fluttered wildly about mid-air.

Harry looks terrified for his life, but he gets the hook out. “Oh my god, Liam, I did it! We did it!”

“Have you guys ever fished without parental supervision before?” Louis quips. “Be honest.”

Liam looks up to retort at Louis, but as a result, his hold on the fish loosens and it lands on Louis’ stomach with a gross squelch.

The coldness of the fish’s scales and its wiggling disorientated Louis and he shouts and stands up in a panic, rocking the boat precariously.

Harry realizes it a second before it happens. “Lou!!!” he screams dramatically while he tries to grasps Louis’s legs. But Louis’s center of gravity was disturbed now and with a “I’m gonna fucking kill you, Liam!”, he tips sideways into the water.

The water was so cold it shocked Louis to the core. For a moment, he sees nothing but the gray of the lake water and its terrifying murky deepness under his kicking feet. Honestly a bit creeped out, Louis emerges as fast as he could, coughing out a bit of water that he accidentally drank, helpfully assisted by his ugly orange life jacket.

“Holy shit, Lou, are you okay?” Harry was leaning towards him already, his face endearingly distressed, holding out his hands. “Liam, is the lake safe?”

Liam was fucking _laughing_ his head off. The asshole. Louis narrows his eyes at him. “You should help me up, shouldn’t you, Liam? It’s your fault I’m all wet now.”

Still giggling, Liam holds out his hand.

 _You idiot_. Without a second thought, Louis uses all of his arm strength to pull Liam with him into the water. Screaming for dear life, Liam splashes into the lake, spluttering like he was drowning and didn’t have a life jacket on.

“LOUIS!” he exclaims angrily, slapping water towards Louis’s direction.

They rough-house for a bit, slapping and splashing water at each other. And maybe it seemed like they were having so much fun that Harry jumped in after them. They swim like they were kids again, on vacation before middle school starts, without a care in the world. Louis swears Liam jumps a foot into the air when a fish nudges his leg, and they all burst into laughter. And then Harry remembers the _Meg_ trailer they watched, and they all scramble back to the boat with great difficulty and silly panic, their hands slippery and unable to get a firm hold, with the trout on the boat’s floor staring at them like they were idiots.

They were, but it felt so good. Louis hadn’t been close to a body of water since he was a kid, but now he was willingly swimming in unknown waters. He shivers as they ride back to shore, and Harry grins down at him, wrapping a soft mint green towel around his shoulders and kissing his head. It was Harry. It was Harry that enabled him to laugh while he swam in this lake that was so deep he couldn’t see the bottom of it. It was only ever Harry.

To make amends with him, Liam fetches wood from the groundskeeper to build them a bonfire. Louis demanded smores, and as having been under the peril of Liam’s indiscretions, he had to make it happen. The night sky was glorious above them, with stars winking and twinkling like they never do in the city, and Louis could hear cicadas and fireflies buzzing. With a satisfied grin, Louis pushes back into Harry’s chest, the warmth from Harry’s legs around him chasing away the slight chill in the air. Niall was playing guitar, and he and Hailee were singing a cheesy yet entirely appropriate duet of _Way Back Into Love._

“What a bunch of saps,” Louis teases.

Liam was taking his job of making smores seriously and he hands Harry a plate to feed Louis. “Here you go, kind, forgiving sir.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a little too lucky as Harry holds a smore to his lip and he takes a bite.

“Uh-oh,” Hailee chirps. “Smores are the ultimate sex food.”

Louis raises his eyebrows at her in warning, while Harry blushes and nuzzles wordlessly into his neck.

Louis had never felt this calm, is the thing. He never felt like he was this close to _something better_. He traces the veins on Harry’s hand before speaking, “H, I want to tell you something.”

Harry freezes behind him, putting down the plate of smores on the ground and turning him slowly around. He looked apprehensive. Louis could go as far as to say he looked terrified. Louis had to make sure Harry knows he had nothing to be afraid of.

Louis clears his throat, looking down at their intertwined hands. He leans against Harry’s propped up leg, determined to get this over with. “I’m not sure how much you know, but the Nick you met earlier... he was my ex of four years.”

Harry tilts his chin up. Louis was relieved his eyes were wide and scared, but they were so warm too and unfathomably understanding, urging him to continue. “He was the only one I had at a very difficult period in my life and for that reason, I was very dependent on him. I trusted him and had so much faith in him... and when he left me because he was tired of handling my issues, it really hurt me. It almost actually destroyed me.”

Harry doesn’t interrupt, just clutches Louis’s hand tighter. Louis looks at the lake beyond their little bonfire, beyond Niall, Hailee, and Liam’s karaoke session, at the utter peace of this world. So close to the touch. “Before you even came into my life, I knew I wasn’t in love with him anymore. What lingered was the hurt, you know? It was almost like... like my mind was traumatized with what happened, like my body remembers the pain of it. Is that silly?”

“Not at all, Lou,” Harry says firmly, his mouth turned down into a frown, his face protective. “You told me, right? It’s okay to be sad about it.”

Louis chuckles weakly. “Exactly. I just want to say, it had nothing to do with you, Haz. The way I pushed you away at the start, how I insisted we shouldn’t go out anymore... I was just afraid you’d leave me once you realized I was too hard to handle.”

Harry squeaks in angry protest, hugging Louis close to his chest. “ _No_ , Lou, you cannot say ugly things like that. You’re not some _thing_ that has to be handled. And there are no issues to be handled. It’s just you, and I love you, _so much_. You have no idea how much I love you.”

Louis grasps Harry’s shoulders tight, closing his eyes, relishing the comfort of Harry’s embrace, of Harry’s love. He swallows. “I love you too, Curly. So much.”

He could feel Harry’s huge grin on his neck. And Louis almost wants to cry in relief, that he was finally able to say it. He isn’t sure how easily it will slip out of his mouth next time he says it, but what mattered was he did. “That’s never going to change, remember that,” he whispers instead. He knows he’ll never stop loving Harry, that he’ll stop truly living if he did.

Slowly, their companions say goodnight and retreat to their rooms, and they do too. They prepare for bed, brushing their teeth and kissing with sheet masks on, lying back on the silk duvet, chatting idly, and looking at the stars through the skylight. Louis cuddles Harry close to his chest as they turn the lamps off. He lightly kisses Harry’s shoulder, his throat, his jawline. He licks his collarbones tenderly as Harry rolls on to his back. They look into each other’s eyes, burning green and blue, the moonlight reflecting back on Harry’s milky skin. He never looked so beautiful, just like this, soft and warm underneath Louis.

Louis leans forward wordlessly, licking one nipple then the other until they were pert under his tongue. He thumbs gently at the two extra nipples just below Harry’s ribs, before kissing and licking down to his stomach, each of his hipbones, and then the very inside of his thighs. Harry was naked apart from a pair of boxers, and Louis realizes he was salivating.

“Lou,” Harry says breathlessly. His hands were looking for Louis’s, so Louis takes them into his hands, squeezing fervently. “Please let this be the night. Please.”

Louis perfectly understood what he meant. And it did feel like _the_ night, the heat finally boiling over between them, their souls and hearts so exposed and vulnerable, there’s no other more plausible way to be even more intertwined forever. And Harry was just so fucking delectable.

“I’m a little scared,” Harry says reluctantly, opening his eyes and sneaking a guilty peek at Louis. “I’m sorry.”

Louis kisses each of his palms. “Do you trust me, Haz?”

“Always.”

Slowly, they rid themselves of the meager pieces of clothing between them. Louis reaches up to kiss Harry hard and fast, rolling his hips against Harry’s. They moan obscenely and synchronously, their groans echoing throughout the room. Harry’s hands were scrambling all over him, feeling his biceps, running along his back, squeezing his ass. Harry groans as his fingers dig into the meat of it. “Fuck me, please. Fuck.. fuck...”

“Shh, love.” Kissing and biting all over his throat and chest, Louis reaches for the bottle of lube by the nightstand. He thanks his lucky stars he got himself tested recently. The thought of fucking Harry bare made his movements more frantic, and as he teases Harry’s rim and Harry starts whining and begging unintelligibly under him, he had never felt more alive.

He takes his time, making sure it wouldn’t hurt for Harry, not proceeding until Harry was biting his forearm to get him to move along. Laughing softly, he kisses Harry once more before stroking his cock, drizzling more lube onto it, before getting on his knees and aligning himself. Harry throws his arms above his head in utter bliss, as if the mere thought of Louis inside him was enough to make him come, spreading his legs open even wider.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Louis grunts out, before taking hold of Harry’s hips firmly and starting to push in. He was careful as he enters, asking Harry if it hurt and fussing over him. Teasing him. Making it good to nudge him to the edge but not good enough to push.

“Fucking....hell, Louis!” Harry shouts so loudly between moans Louis was afraid the others in the lake house would hear it. “Fucking...fuck....me already!”

Louis’s head was a bit fuzzy from the heat surrounding him and the pleasure in his belly, but he was all too willing to oblige. He pushes Harry’s legs up over his shoulder, bending him almost in half and changing angles, as he starts a punishing rhythm. Their moans and the sound of their sex only drove them further into a frenzy.

He notices when Harry’s moans get higher and more desperate, and he hits that spot over and over until Harry comes loud and hard, completely untouched, his back arching off the bed, his eyes closed in utter pleasure. The stars above their bed couldn’t compare. Harry shaking beneath him was enough to push Louis off the edge too, and he groans into Harry’s neck, riding it out and fucking into Harry until it was over.

They pant as they go down from their high, hearts beating like they just ran a marathon, arms wrapped tightly around each other. There was sweat and come all over their skin, and it’s a mess. But as soon as they’ve come down, they kiss languidly again, tongues meeting and breaths mingling, perfectly content.

“Wow,” Harry gasps out breathlessly, running his fingers along the soft hair at the nape of Louis’s neck.

Louis kisses under his jawline one last time. “You’re amazing, babe,” he whispers before resolutely passing out.

\---

Louis wakes up slowly the next morning. The sunlight was still a gentle baby yellow as it shines through the skylight above them, but he squints anyway. He had to go to the bathroom. Harry was breathing little snuffles into his neck, his arm wrapped around Louis’s stomach. He softly strokes Harry’s cheekbone with his thumb, before delicately extricating himself to take care of his business.

The wooden floor creaks as he comes back from the en suite, and he pauses, afraid to have woken Harry up. But he was still sleeping soundly on his stomach, nuzzling into the warmth Louis left on the bed, and Louis smiles fondly. He looks at Harry, his curls a wild mess on the pillow, his cheek mushed and his lips parted, his back smooth and pale, looking so soft and sweet and _like home_.

Louis feels it in his chest, radiating and diverging, from his heart, to his fingers and toes. To the boy in front of him, who he loves with everything he is, who he wants to take care of and protect with everything he ever will be.

A delicate, fragile peace emanating from his very being. It hits him suddenly. Maybe pain did not have to be forevermore, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. Just the epilogue to go :) Thank you so much for giving this fic a chance, whoever you are, and thank you for reading :) If you liked it, leave a kudos or comment! It really makes my day. 
> 
> It took me more motivation than I realized to finish this, but am I glad it's done wew.


	13. Epilogue

_Four Years Later_

Louis blows on his hands to get rid of the chill, wrapping his forest green scarf one more time around his neck as he exits the clinic where his last group grief therapy session took place. It had been almost a year since he last attended his first one, and Louis had to admit that he did feel different and changed after it. Standing here now, thinking of where he had been a couple of years ago, he can’t help but feel a little relieved.

A violently freezing wind whips against his face and he stomps his feet to produce some sort of body heat. He could have stayed inside, but Harry was supposed to swing by any minute now and they agreed to take the subway together back to the Twists’ place for their monthly dinner. Louis smiles at the thought. He loved Anne and Gemma like they were his own family. They _are_ his family. A few months after moving back with Harry to Manhattan, Harry finally felt ready enough to reach out to Anne and Gemma. And they included Louis too, in their monthly dinners, in Anne’s book club, in Gemma and Harry’s occasional night caps. He even gets to babysit Gemma’s twin daughters sometimes, Cagney and Lacey, and Louis loved them _to death_. Despite being uprooted from Wren Brighton, the library and Dorothea, from Niall and his wife of two years, Amelia, Louis still felt like he had found his home.

“Lou!!” He hears before feels Harry approaching him. Harry tackles him from behind, wrapping his arms around Louis’s chest, giggling like he didn’t just see Louis in their tiny apartment that very morning, his breath warm against the shell of Louis’s ear. “I missed youuu..” Harry starts peppering the side of Louis’s face with soft, playful kisses.

Louis laughs, whirling around and taking Harry’s mitten-covered hands, caressing them to his face. “Hello, my love, how was work?” Louis was smiling so wide his eyes were crinkling at the corners, eyes alight at Harry’s forest green ones, at the playful curl of his lips, at the dimples peeking through his cheeks, at the faint wisps of snow that had fallen at his shoulder-length waves of curly hair. “You’re so beautiful.” Louis leans forward and kisses his cheek softly, then his lips.

Harry makes a horse-neighing sound as they walk the short distance to the closest subway station. “Oh, you know, just the usual. Catching up on paperwork, squinting into particle size distribution graphs. My back hurts, but it’s for a good cause!”

Harry didn’t end up going to medical school. When he realized the only thing pushing him to proceed was his mother who didn’t really inherently care about his life decisions, he decided to pursue a master’s degree and then work as a researcher. His mother was definitely disappointed, but eventually she laid it to rest. Lizzy and Harry even go out for coffee sometimes these days. And once or twice, Louis gets invited too. Right now though, Harry was working with a non-profit organization and a team of other researchers in drug discovery for Parkinsonism. It paid a lot, but Harry wasn’t in it for the money. He was just glad that a degree in something he wasn’t even passionate about led to a job that benefited other people, that in some way he was helping in changing people’s lives.

Louis was still a librarian, at a private library close to their block that was funded by a corporate foundation. He loved going to work now, working on organizing collections and new arrivals, arranging book readings from up-and-coming authors, proposing new additions and curating recommendations for the library’s website. He also works part-time for a literary magazine as a book reviewer. Louis was content, but it wasn’t just because he got a stable job within months of living in Manhattan.

It was because of Anne and Gemma and Gemma’s husband, Michal. Cagney and Lacey and Liam and little road trips back to Wren Brighton when they visit Niall and Amelia and Rainy’s grave. Most of all, it was Harry. His darling, his happiness, the love of his life. He honestly didn’t know where he would be right now if it weren’t for him.

Sometimes it scares him, how much Harry meant to him, how much losing Harry would hurt him. But he’d been through too much, endured too much, to let fear get in the way of being with the person he loves. One can only live one day at a time, always choosing to live, always choosing to love.

Louis rubs his palm along Harry’s spine soothingly, as they got in the train amid the bustle of the Friday night commuters, cooing about his back pain. Harry gets jostled forward by the crowd and they get pushed back against the farthest steel wall, their hands clutching the railing above them, but they just laugh, fondly exchanging little pecks to the lips. Louis can’t wait until they get home so Harry can ravish him like he teased that morning.

“What are you thinking?” Harry says with a devilish smirk, as though he can read Louis’s mind.

Deciding to play along, Louis slides his hand down Harry’s lower back, slowly over his bum, and then extremely close to his groin. The commuters around them were too annoyed or self-absorbed to even notice. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me when we get home tonight,” Louis whispers to his ear.

Even after all these years, Harry blushes profusely and he cackles out a choked, shocked laugh, hiding his face in Louis’s neck when the people closest to them looked back to see who the strangled giggle came from. “You can’t just say that in the middle of a train, Lou!” Harry whispers in embarrassed panic.

Louis laughs softly, shaking his head. He wraps both his arms around Harry, trusting that Harry could keep them both upright. “You’re so silly,” he murmurs, kissing Harry one last time softly on the neck.

They run to the Twist residence because the snow was coming in hard now and Louis always gets cold too fast. They rang the doorbell cuddled close together, and Gemma only rolls her eyes as she opens the door for them.

“Hey, H, Louis,” she greets them, her smile and dimples on full display, as they deposit their coats and boots by the door. “Mom made her signature pasta.”

“That’s awesome!” Harry says, his voice a little too loud and high. He rearranges his lilac sweater on his shoulders, patting his slacks awkwardly.

“Looking for something, Haz?” Louis asks, rearranging his fringe and raising his eyebrows at Harry.

“Uhm, nothing!” Harry’s mood shift was amazing, if Louis was honest. His eyes were wide as saucers and his blush from the train didn’t fade one bit. “Hey, Gems, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Gemma laughs at him, but quickly becomes serious when Harry drags them to the other side of the apartment. Used to Harry’s weirdness, Louis shakes his head and walks to the kitchen to find Anne.

“Hey, Louis, good evening,” Anne greets him with a smile as she plates vongole pasta and dusts them lightly with ground pepper. “How was your day?”

Louis kisses her lightly on the cheek and leans back against the counter. “Good, good. Uhm, today was the last day of my therapy.”

Anne beams at him, placing the giant wok of pasta to the counter and hugging him. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, darling. I’m sure your mother is too.”

Louis smiles a little sadly, hugging her back and allowing himself a few seconds to rest his head on her shoulder, to smell the rose water of her perfume. It was unceasingly consoling. “Thank you. I’m proud of me too.”

Louis can say he was truly better now. He would always carry his mother in his heart, and think about her and miss her and long for her, but enough time and healing has passed that he thinks of her fondly now. The memories would always be a little sad, and the years passing by without her would always bring with it a pang in his chest. But it was bearable, and he was endlessly comforted by the thought that he wasn’t alone anymore. That he was living his life for the two of them, for Harry, for his newfound family and his friends, for his library and the books he still hasn’t read on his nightstand, for this city he has grown to love.

There were still times he can’t get out of bed, times he’s too anxious to go out for unreasonable reasons, times he’s still overthinking the simplest of situations and problems. But there are times he wakes up with a smile on his face too, days where he wakes up feeling alive and content and happy, with Harry’s arms around him and their tabby cat, Queen, curled around their legs. Those happy days were slowly outnumbering the bad ones. And Louis can’t help but count that as a victory. It _is_ a victory.

Gemma and Harry finally emerge from wherever it was they were talking and they settle into dinner, eagerly eating the pasta and sipping their Pinot Grigio. Anne was sharing her latest conquest with her knitting group to knit this famous multi-colored cardigan, and Gemma was complaining about her work at a marketing firm. And Louis was just fucking happy to catch up with them. He was playing footsie with Harry under the table, and his hand was too high up Harry’s thigh, and Harry seemed already a little too tipsy and fidgety.

Harry clears his throat during a lull in the conversation. Gemma’s eyes widen and she sits up straight in her seat, her eyes boring to Louis. Louis looks at her questioningly, but Harry was taking his hand as he stands up on shaky Bambi feet, clutching a tiny red velvet box in his hand.

“Harry?” Louis asks, smile frozen in place, zeroing in on the box in Harry’s hand.

Harry grins back nervously, running his fingers through his hair, and then abruptly gets down on one knee. Anne gasps across from them, and Gemma has the biggest, smuggest smile on her face.

Louis’s heart was thudding in his chest. He did not dare blink. He wanted to photograph this moment, Harry looking up at him, with the warmest, happiest smile curling his lips, his eyes so breathtakingly full of love and adoration and devotion. “Louis,” he starts firmly, and Louis couldn’t help it, he was already crying. Harry wipes at his tears with his thumb and continues. “I love you from the moment I laid my eyes on you. Every day I get to spend with you is a gift, and I just feel so damn lucky, that you chose to love me too, that you chose us. You are the first man I have ever loved, and it would make me the happiest person alive, if you would do me the privilege of being the last. Please, Lou, will you marry me?”

Harry had the nerve to look at him with trepidation. Louis surges forward, dropping to the ground as well and peppering Harry’s face and lips with kisses. “You don’t even need to say please, love. Yes, yes, yes. I will marry you. I love you.”

Harry laughs delightedly and kisses him back with all the love and vigor he can muster. Anne and Gemma cheer and clap. They look up at them and laugh out loud too, arms wrapped firmly around each other, surrounded with love and celebration and family.

Their life together has just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to emphasize in the epilogue that the battle against mental illness isn't always a one-way-street kind of success story, you know? And that there's nothing wrong at all with taking all the time you need and having bad days sometimes. I also wanted to show that it isn't just going to go away either because you found the love of your life.. It's something you have to choose for yourself, as hard as that may be. Never be ashamed to ask for help from the people you love and who care about you.
> 
> If you'd like to reblog: [ Tumblr post ](https://blue-angeldust.tumblr.com/post/643874442024484864/catching-my-breath-catching-my-death-m-36k-by)
> 
> That's all, really. Thank you again! I hope this epilogue finds you well.


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